


A Vampire in Hiding

by PureFury



Series: Vampire John [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, John's a vampire, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Vampire!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 44,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureFury/pseuds/PureFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a secret that he is keeping fom everybody including Sherlock. Can he hide the truth so he doesn't lose his friend or get sent off to Mycroft? What would happen if Sherlock finds out?  Vampire-John</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The troubles of a vampire

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on Fanfiction.net.

John wiped away the small dribble of blood which was slowly descending from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the blood he had just wiped off, smudged across his fingers, before slowly licking the liquid off the digits. His tongue stroked over the space where the blood had previously been. He sighed, feeling the tension leave his coiled muscles. A small smile ghosted across his thin lips. The doctor rolled his shoulders before turning on his heel and leaving the darkened alley way. He felt a sharp pain as his fangs retracted back into their normal position. The pain was deliciously sweet causing a small shiver to fall down his spine. He walked along the main road for a while before attempting to hail a cab. He finally caught one after being bypassed by so many. The blonde would never understand how Sherlock could conjure one up from, seemingly, the middle of nowhere.

"221 Baker Street," John directed the cabbie before licking the area around his lips. He must remove all evidence of his secret. To avoid his sociopath catching on John had to check his list. Sherlock must never find out about the doctor's affliction so he has a list of 4 senses and each was a way for Sherlock to guess his secret.

1) Sight- Remove all traces of blood from around his mouth and anywhere else the blood may have gotten to in the struggle. Make sure that both fangs are completely retracted before entering the flat. If any blood made its way onto his clothes he is to remove them when he gets into the flat, if not before, and -preferably- burn them.

2)Smell- The sent of blood can linger on a vampires breath for hours after a feed. To avoid Sherlock realising the shorter man's problem John would drink a strong coffee or tea on the way to the flat or immediately on entry.

3) Sound- John would make sure that he didn't walk with his psychosomatic limb. Walking with his limb will tell Sherlock about the struggle that had happened hours previously( not that there was ever much of a struggle. John was a vampire so he was immensely strong and amazingly fast).

4) Touch- Sherlock must never touch John. Not just because of his freezing skin but because John, as well as every other vampire, is extremely sensitive to touch. It was once used as a way of knowing who was around you and if you were in danger but these days John found it more of a hindrance. If he wasn't expecting the contact he would become extremely defensive. His fangs would drop and the short man would automatically fall into a crouch so it is easier to avoid unexpected contact all together.

John stuck to these four rules religiously. If Sherlock found out he would be disgusted that be had been living with a monster for the last year. He would be sure to send John off to Mycroft to be tested and destroyed. Mycroft would probably use him as a weapon for the government. John stopped revising his list as the cab jolted to a halt.

"221 Baker Street," the cabbie croaked in his thick south London drawl. John handed over the fare before making his way into Baker Street. His vision was becoming clearer. It often blurred when he hadn't fed in a couple of weeks. He tried to deal with the constant fogged vision, he didn't like being a monster. The doctor avoided feeding off humans but after a few weeks of nothing but cats and the occasional dog he had no choice. His vision would become unbearably fuzzy and frequent waves of nausea tormented him. He sighed satisfied as he felt the warm blood dance in his dead veins. John pushed the door open and bounced up the seventeen stairs to 221B. The sudden blood boost had given the blonde man a surge of energy leaving the blurring, nausea and dizziness in the past. John bursts into the flat practically buzzing and leaped over to the kitchen cabinets, where they kept the tea. The man grabbed the kettle and dashed over to the sink to fill it up. John placed the kettle on the stove and returned to the box of tea bags John had pulled out just before. He turned the box upside down expecting at least one tea bag to fall out. None did.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, frustrated. He leant back on the table, straining to hear whether his flat mate would bother to answer. The silence was the only reply. He jumped on the spot to stop himself bursting with energy and rolled his eyes. He could feel each and every atom in his body buzzing and shaking inside him, sparking against each other. The doctor's post-feed hype has always been bad but this one had just reached the number one spot. He could feel each cell inside of his body dancing, singing and being created over and over again. Maybe he shouldn't leave feeding such long periods a part next time. He tries to not prey on people but they are so weak and powerless and warm with thick delicious blood that leaves John's mouth watering. The blonde man shook his head violently, he must not go down that road. Not here in the flat with Sherlock probably only meters away.

John had been leaving too much time between his feeds when he left the flat a few hours earlier he nearly fell down the stairs as his legs turned to jelly and his vision was so blurry it was nearly impossible to see. He had to catch himself on the wall to stop himself ending up as a pile on the floor. Mrs Hudson would have then panicked and called an ambulance. A trip to the hospital was something he was very keen to avoid. His low or practically non-existent blood pressure especially between feeds had made many paramedics and nurses raise their eyebrows in disapproval and disbelief. He should be dead according to all their medical training but he was technically dead already so what is a small thing like blood pressure going to do? He knew that if he couldn't avoid the trip to the hospital then he would have to feed a matter of hours before to make him look like he has a kind of normal blood pressure. He hated trips to the hospital. It could cause so much trouble.

When Sherlock asked him why he still worked in the hospital, he had to lie and tell him it was because they needed rent money. In reality, he found the blood supply useful but recently they didn't need him for any shifts for the last few weeks so he had to resort to using humans as providers.

"Sherlock!" John shouted louder before he bounded into the living room. Sherlock was lying on the couch in his pyjamas and favourite dressing gown with his hands in a prayer position under his chin. John started marching on the spot trying to burn away the excess energy. He threw the red tea bag box onto Sherlock's chest.

"Ow!" Sherlock moaned having just been pulled from his mind palace. He looked down offensively at the red box before looking up at John and raising an eyebrow.  
"What?" He demanded.

"What did I tell you about tea bags?" John asked. You could hear the frustration like a stone in his normally happy tone.

"Not to use them in experiments?" Sherlock guessed. A look of confusion fell over his face.

"Yes, Sherlock but what else? Something about using them all and leaving the box maybe?"

"Does it really matter, John? If I deleted it then it couldn't have been important," Sherlock muttered.

"Matter? Doesn't matter?" The military man fumed.

"Yes, John. How can it matter?" Sherlock said while rising to his feet. "If I don't think it is important than it can't be."

John just stared slack jawed at his flat mate. How could a genius be so stupid and lack in such basic manners and social obligations? John couldn't help himself. The smug idiot deserved it. He punched Sherlock square in the face. He tried to rein in some of his supernatural strength and he thought he was successful until a loud moan resounded from the floor. The doctor looked down in surprise. Sherlock Holmes, the great, was lying on the floor hand cradling his nose and bleeding mouth.

"I'm going to go and buy more tea bags. When I come back I will take a look at your nose and mouth." John told Sherlock and with that he turned bounded over to his coat wiggled it on before grabbing his wallet and leaving the apartment.


	2. Too much energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John struggles with his energy outburst and a new case comes up.

John would have stayed to give a proper lecture to Sherlock but during his adrenaline fuelled actions he didn't notice the sting of his fangs descending or the sudden HD clarity of everything around him. He was certain Sherlock hadn't noticed either. Sherlock was occupied with protecting his throbbing nose and bleeding top lip. The punch was harder than Sherlock expected to receive from the ex-army doctor. At least John was hopeful that he may have learnt his lesson and would replace the tea bags next time.

Even if he had wanted to stay and lecture Sherlock, he couldn't. The smell of Sherlock's blood running over his lips and down his chin was making John's vampire side rear his monstrous fanged head. He would have to calm down and control the temptation to suck Sherlock dry. The doctor slapped himself in the middle of Tesco's tea isle. He needs to get a grip of himself and stop thinking about that; about how Sherlock Holmes would taste. He was almost getting an erection just thinking about biting into that pale neck and wrists. Sherlock's pale neck and wrists. No, he must not. Sherlock is his friend. He is good to him and always will be unless he uncovers John's secret. Then the doctor would have to deal with the older Holmes on top of everything else.

John grabbed his preferred tea bags, quickly paid and left. His fangs had retracted and his pupils had gone back to their usual size. Nothing to make Sherlock suspect anything. John started racing back to the flat. He really was in charge of way to much energy, he is going to get into trouble at this rate.

He leaped up all seventeen steps in one bound on his way up to 221b before quickly turning and checking that Mrs Hudson wasn't looking out of her door. If he kept this up someone will see. 'Calm down!' he moaned to himself. He stopped outside the door, with 221b written on it, with one hand on the door knob the other checking the time on his phone- 4:25. Good, he had only been gone for twenty minutes.

"I know you are there. You might as well come in." Sherlock's voice was slightly muffled but John could still hear the irritation beneath.

The vampire pushed the door open and stepped inside slowly before summoning all his courage to look up at his injured flat mate. Sherlock was sat, still in his pyjamas, with a stained cloth under his nose and mouth. Small drops of blood had fallen down onto his top staining it with red blotches.

John felt guilty about what he had done to his friend and he hoped Sherlock would forgive him for his sudden outburst. Stupid extra energy. It was making him practically hormonal, like some sort of teenager. The doctor knelt down in front of Sherlock lifting his head so he could get a better look at the damage.

"Wait a second. I will go and get my medical kit." John sighed.

It wasn't as bad as he expected. Sherlock was a being over dramatic, as always. He probably just wanted John to feel bad. John carried his kit down stairs before laying it on the floor by Sherlock's bare feet. He pulled on his plastic examining gloves hoping Sherlock didn't notice his cold hands. The shorter man knelt down again and started to wipe around Sherlock's mouth and nose with a wet cloth. Apparently, the genius' nose had started to bleed after the doctor had left. Leaving a monumental mess for John to clean up. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped earlier.

"There. Good as new." John stated patting Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock didn't answer instead just raised an eyebrow at him. John rolled his eyes before raising to his feet and returned his medical kit. Retreating back downstairs, John entered the kitchen before boiling the kettle and making two steaming cups of tea. Sherlock accepted the tea wordlessly still with his raised eyebrow. John sat in his chair opposite his sulking flat mate. He couldn't take the ice cold glare much longer.

"Look, Sherlock. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to punch you." John cringed as his apology sounded completely heartless. Even John himself wouldn't except that. He tried again, "Sherlock, I feel really bad. I didn't mean to. It just kind of happened. Please say you will forgive me."

Sherlock sighed before nodding.

"Okay. You're forgiven... I guess." The detective smiled, sipping his tea, as John's usual bright smile made a welcome appearance back on his flat mate's warm face.

"Good! Now come on I'm getting bored,"John said jumping to his feet and slightly bouncing "Think of something active to do."

John started punching the air and ducked as his invisible opponent swung for him.

"Why? What d-" John interrupted Sherlock's questions.

"Come on! You're supposed to be the genius! Well, use that massive brain for something useful! What can we do? SHERLOCK!? Come on! Work with me here." John was shaking Sherlock by the shoulders and the brunette didn't look happy at the cold contact. John removed his hands swiftly.

Sherlock gave his friend a quick once over before raising his eyebrow again.

"Really John. You should stop drinking coffee."

"Coffee? Why? What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid John. It doesn't suit you. Coffee. You have obviously had at least a three cups today. You are practically bouncing off the walls. You're worse than me!" Sherlock fixed him with a knowing glare.

"Bouncing off the-?" John stopped for a second before looking down at his sociopath." Yes," He lied, "I've had way to many cups today. That must be why I have so much energy."

"Yes, John. Stop drinking coffee. Your excitement is annoying."

John stared at his friend. His hand was twitching as he stood stock still. How had he just fooled Sherlock-bleeding-Holmes, the genius, that his sudden energy surge was from coffee and not 9 pints of fresh, mouth-watering blood.

His latest victim- no, let's not use that word- His latest provider was a 26 year old woman. She was fit and healthy so her blood tasted fresh and pure. She had obviously never used drugs either. She tasted so natural. John knew Sherlock would not taste like that because of his past drug use. The drugs often left the blood tasting stale and tainted for years after the person stopped using but John felt that Sherlock would taste differently. He was special, John blushed at the thought of lapping up Sherlock's blood. If only Sherlock could see what John was thinking.

John chose his providers carefully. He was weak from lack of nourishment so chose a woman and not a strong male. He could have a man if he wanted to but it wasn't worth the struggle. He was weak, he was in a state of starvation.

What the vampire had consumed wasn't 9 pints of coffee but 9 pints of delicious wholesome blood. Just right to bring him off the brink of starvation.

"Well now. Let's think of something for you to do," Sherlock sat with his eyes locked on a buzzing John as he rapidly went over activities in his head. Sherlock blushed slightly when a few sexual activities came to the forefront for his mind. Of course, he wouldn't mind them and it would use up John's energy but he knew John had strict heterosexual views when it came to who he slept with. He would never consider sleeping with Sherlock. Something non-sexual, he told himself.

"Maybe we could g-" Sherlock was interrupted by the chime of his mobile phone.

Sherlock answered it quickly without taking his eyes off his flat mate who had started to almost hop on the spot.

"Sherlock Holmes speaking," John rolled his eyes at how formal Sherlock had just become, "Ah! Lestrade. What have you got for me?" John stood listening to both sides of the conversation; sometimes there really were benefits to being a vampire, "Murder, you say? Female? Darkened alley way? Nothing to indicate who the murderer is? Well of course you don't have a clue, you have Anderson on the case! We will be there is 10 minutes." Sherlock then hung up and leaped up into a standing position. Still staring at John.

"Murder. Alley way. Female. Mid-twenties. Recent. No way of identifying the murderer. Anderson. Come on John. I've found our activity!"

Sherlock ran out the door barely even slowing to grab his coat and scarf. John stood frozen in place. His mind running through everything Sherlock had just said- Alley way, female, mid-twenties and recent. It couldn't be. No way. It's too soon for anyone to have found the body. John paled. Oh no, he's going to be in trouble.

The short man rushed out after his mind had processed what was happening. He jumped in the cab as Sherlock was giving the address to the cabbie. He started to fidget nervously. He kept glancing across at Sherlock every few minutes. The cab stopped at the end of a road near the alley. Before the cab had come to complete stop, Sherlock was out and striding over to Lestrade who was waiting at the mouth of the alley.

John paid the cabbie quickly before jogging to catch up with the genius. Greg turned to acknowledge him when he stopped next to Sherlock.

"Hey John. I was just telling Sherlock that it doesn't seem right. She has had her blood completely drained. Like some sort of sick vampire joke."

John tried to fake a look of utter disgust at the idea but to be honest all this talk of blood being drained was making him want to feed again.

"As if!" Sherlock laughed, "Everybody knows vampires cannot come out in the day" He said sarcastically.

If only he knew, John thought.


	3. Crime Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They investigate the crime scene

Lestrade led them past the yellow crime scene tape, a spiteful Donovan and over to a body lying lifeless on the tarmac. Sherlock started to manoeuvre his way around the crime scene with confident skill. The genius made noises every now and then, a "hmmm" here and there. He started by looking at the walls of the alley, seemingly ignoring the body altogether. John,on the other hand, stood almost directly above the body with his head tilted to the side like he was trying to see deeper into the victim. Sherlock looked up once or twice at the doctor during his observations but didn't allow the shorter man to be a distraction. The blond had paled but apart from that he seemed completely unaffected by the body in front of him. Sherlock thought this was strange for the doctor for he usually was overly sentimental about deaths, in the detective's opinion anyway.

John continued to study his victim, because that's what she is, HIS victim. He looked at her face and eyes. She had a light grey completion, from lack of blood, and her eyes were void of any emotion. It made him feel bad, really bad, but he couldn't help it. It's the way he is. A monster. He hates himself. He really does hate himself.

He will be in trouble when the vampires in charge hear about this. The head vampires, if you will. They watch all vampire activity and step in when it becomes dangerous for either vampire kind or humans or when the actions of a vampire nearly get the whole of the vampire world exposed. They weren't pleased when John left for Afghanistan. They were sure he would break cover and in result get himself and all other vampires exterminated.

The girl looked completely unharmed apart from the two small marks on her neck. It is what a human would call a stereotypical vampire bite but all myths, legends and stereotypes have to come from somewhere.

"You alright?" Lestrade asked, disturbing John's train of thought." It's just you look a bit ...off, I suppose. I would put it down to seeing a dead body but then again... you've seen worse working with Sherlock and probably worse than that in Afghanistan." Greg laughed without humour.

"Umm... yeah. I'm alright. Just tired. It's been a busy day." John supplied wearily, rubbing a hand over his face. He tried to make it sound realistic but he could still feel the energy surging in his cold veins.

Lestrade nodded and walked off towards Sherlock, who was in the process of giving Anderson a verbal dressing down, to see if he had anything new.

John sighed, looking down at the young woman again. He had never stayed long enough after a feed to inspect the provider in more detail. The skin was so pale it looked almost translucent. It looked thin and ready to snap at any second.

Suddenly, Sherlock appeared by his side. Looking quickly over the body.

"Lestrade was right, you know." He told John as though it was obvious.

"About what?" John replied, trying to seem confused but he knew exactly to what Sherlock was referring.

"Looking off.. As he put it so eloquently. You do."

"Oh, I didn't realise you were listening. I thought you were busy, "John decided it was best to change the subject. " So what have you got so far?"

Sherlock continued to let his eyes dart about the body. He had a rare look of confusion plastered across his face. He was too distracted by the body to conceal it. He said nothing but moved the body this way and that, trying to get a better angle. John just rolled his eyes while tapping his foot trying to stop the buzzing sensation. The detective's eyes lit up in delight when he saw the two marks on the girl's neck directly above the jugular vein. He then decided to speak.

"Up until this point, I had nothing," Sherlock explained but kept his eyes on the marks, "but this is interesting."

John frowned. How can Sherlock have nothing? John expected him to march over, reveal him as the murderer and send him off to Mycroft before you could say 'bloodthirsty monster'. Sherlock decided that he needed to explain further without anyone asking him.

"The murderer is very good. He really is. He has gone and made it all exciting. Better then I first expected when Lestrade called about a murder in an alley; I mean how cliché! I know it is a man because statistically that is most likely and he over powered her very easily, even if she knew the person after they started to attack her she would of fought back but it looks like she didn't get a chance. So probably male. Do you want to know why he is clever? Much cleverer than the average murderer, I think, actually much cleverer then most people, including you, John. Do you want to know why that is? ... Of course you do. Unlike you John, he has kept his emotions out of the way. You aren't very good at being not sentimental, I guess that is why you became a doctor and not a murderer, but our murderer here has kept his emotions separate so he has a clear head and can think very clearly. A job well done, I think. I don't believe he knew this woman. If he did surely he would have felt something towards her. So I believe it was a random murder and she didn't know the murderer." Sherlock shot out his deductions so fast John struggled to keep up.

During the explanation Lestrade had walked over and was now stood next to John attempting to take notes. John looked over to Lestrade with a confused expression playing on his face. Lestrade looked back at him with an equally as lost expression.

"What has the freak done now?" Sally asked sending a sour look at the sociopath. John could feel the anger sharpening his senses. That was a bonus about being a vampire, as you got angry every sense would become more astute so your punches always flew straight. John had plenty of energy, taking her out would be like stabbing fish in a barrel.

"Shut up, Donovan." Lestrade stepped in before world war three could break out. Sally huffed at her boss before stalking off in the other direction.

"So why...Why murder someone out of the blue? Just drain the blood and leave the body." Lestrade wondered out loud.

Sherlock looked Lestrade in the eye before answering seriously, "Vampires"

John blinked rapidly as Lestrade's mouth fell open.

"Seriously? Vampires? I didn't have you pegged as the kind of bloke who believes in all that kind of stuff." The policeman muttered.

Sherlock shook his head in frustration. Making his ebony curls bounce on his head.

"No," His tone implied that the men in front of him were being idiots. "Of course vampires don't exist. Don't be dense."

"Then what?" John asked while trying to stop the amusement playing in his voice. A small smile broke free from the restraints. It flashed across John's face quickly before he regained control and laid a look of interest onto his features instead. He was quick but Sherlock saw the small smile.

"A prank or joke of some kind. Someone obsessed with vampires if you ask me, which you did. Someone who wants to act like a vampire, I suppose... and Sally calls me the freak." Sherlock sounded as if he was talking to himself for the last sentence.

With that he turned and strode out of the alley, calling John to follow him, with his coat billowing behind him. John looked over to Greg before saying

"Some people are just strange." 

Then left the dark alley after the consulting detective. He caught up with Sherlock just in time as the genius was entering a cab.

They both sat in silence on the way home and still didn't share a word as they got out and paid the driver. They made their way up the stairs. Sherlock swung the door open and strode over to his violin. He began playing a piece that he had recently composed at 3 o'clock in the morning. Not that John minded too much because he can't sleep apart from if he falls into a deep coma-like sleep which happens when he doesn't feed from a human in too many weeks. It had happened once before but he had woken up in hospital. He guessed one of the vampires in charge paid him a visit to revive him or got given a blood transfusion.

John sat in his chair with a steaming tea and a biscuit. John didn't need to eat human food just like he didn't need to sleep but he pretended to sleep and forced himself to eat fowl 'normal' food to keep up appearances. John was pondering if human food would taste better dipped in blood and decided in obviously would and vowed to try it when Sherlock suddenly turned on his head. With his violin in hand, he sat in the chair opposite the doctor and focused his cold eyes on John.

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Am I right to assume that you believe in vampires?"

"Why would you think that?" Had he found out about the blond's affliction? His secret? Did he know?

"At the crime scene today I mentioned vampires and you automatically stiffened. Most probably didn't notice it but you did, I saw. Like you were afraid of something or getting ready to fight plus when Lestrade and I were speaking about how they didn't exist you went decidedly silent. If you are afraid of vampires, I can assure you John, they don't exist."

A small smile crept across the short man's thin lips.

If only he knew.


	4. The Chase is On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John chase their suspect through the back streets of London.

It was four and a half weeks after the vampire conversation, which was well handled in John's opinion, and Sherlock had just been asked to help out with a new case. Of course, Sherlock dragged John along for assistance. Sherlock had all but given up on the 'vampire hoax', as he called it. It was over four weeks since the awkward conversation but that also meant that John hadn't fed in the same time.

He knew that if a body turned up anywhere in London with the same method of death Sherlock would be called in straight away and, in turn, John would get dragged along. He would have to face the torture of staring at his latest provider for almost an hour while Sherlock strode around the deceased, making rapid deductions. Feeding again would run the risk of Sherlock uncovering John's secret.

The detective and his blogger sat in the stuffy conference room in the New Scotland Yard. They had pictures and reports piled around them and scattered along the length of the table. Lestrade and Donovan sat opposite them. Who both had their own stack of evidence to sort through as well. 

John tried to concentrate on the words but they danced about the page, making it impossible to read. John sighed, rubbed his eyes. I've left it too long again, John complained to himself. He was about to excuse himself when Sherlock sprung to his feet. Surprised, John peered over at his friend.

"I've got it! Come on, John!" Sherlock bellowed before racing out the door.

John tried to rise but his legs gave way beneath him causing him to collapse onto the floor with a small moan. Sally and Greg hurried around the table to check on the doctor. John couldn't see them very clearly. He could only make out the blurred out lines and felt like he was going to be sick. John could feel a small flow of adrenaline course through his body due to the shock of the collapse. His vision cleared by a small fraction and the nausea began to subdue slightly. Thank God!, he thought, at least now I will be able to stand.

"Oh my gosh!" Sally gushed reaching down to him "Are you alright? Do we need to call an ambulance?"

"No, no! I'm fine! Just been sat down too long, is all."

Both the police officers raised their eyebrows in disbelief at his statement and Lestrade was about to contradict him when Sherlock stuck his high checked boned head around the door.

"Are you coming? It's not like he could be trying to leave the country or something. Oh wait, yes he is!" Sherlock called sarcastically before shooting off again.

John shot to his feet before Lestrade could stop him and chased after the consulting detective. The small boost in adrenaline doing wonders for his energy levels. They got in a cab and Sherlock told the cabbie the address. As well as telling him that the speed limit didn't apply to cabs that held a police officer before flashing Lestrade's official police badge. John gave his friend a disapproving look before smirking. They hadn't been going very long but curiosity got the better of John.

"Who are we actually going after?" John asked the taller man. He had hundreds of names flicking through his head all ones he had seen in the files earlier.

"A man called Michael Lanstandson. Mouthful of a name, I know. He is the leader of the drugs gang that has been lurking around London recently. The man is directly responsible for dozens of murders and is responsible for hundreds indirectly. He knows the police are doing some research into him and a contact has told me is his preparing to flee the country."

"Okay... so where will we find him?"

"I do believe that is him running out of that house there." Sherlock said casually, nodding towards the running man. He was short but had an athletic build and was setting an impressive pace away from the slowing taxi.

Sherlock and John shared a brief look before surging out of the cab after the criminal, John's exhaustion long forgotten.

As they ran after the gang leader, John, with his sharpened senses, could hear the cabbie swearing after them demanding payment. He ignored him though instead tried to focus on the blurry criminal ahead of him.

He could feel another surge of energy bolting through his body. The doctor looked to his right to see Sherlock sprinting beside him. John caught his eye and they both smirked at the excitement.

They chased the criminal through the back streets of London. They ran along main roads, passing unhappy at being disturbed people, and down alley ways. Ducking and dodging obstacles in their way, they were soon mere inches away from the running Michael Lanstandson. Sherlock reached out his arm in an attempt to grab the lawbreaker but he swerved down another alley way. Leaving Sherlock grabbing for thin air. The boys followed the felon down the dark alley and Sherlock slowed to a jog as they got further in. John followed by example and slowed his pace to match the genius.

Sherlock's mind-map told him that this back street led to a dead-end of high brick walls. He slowed even further to just a fast walk and John followed. They approached the dead-end to see the criminal trying to get some purchase on the wall so he could climb up and escape.

He was scrabbling at the wall with his fingertips attempting to hoist himself up. Sherlock chuckled at the man's pathetic struggle and smiled an all teeth smile. One that made the blond's stomach flip when it was directed at him.

"Michael. Michael. Michael," The genius muttered. "What are you doing?" He said with the same tone as one would use when speaking to a child.

The criminal stopped his escape attempt and instead turns to face Sherlock and John. He looks like he doesn't actually know what he is doing.

"I-I was just leaving," The man answered back uncertainty whilst pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the wall. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes. I know. Well done for stating the blatantly obvious. Although... I would change that to trying to leave because you aren't doing a very good job." Sherlock says blandly.

Sherlock and John take a step towards the man causing him to panic. His eyes darting around for an escape. The man became extremely flustered as they take another step closer until they are just a couple metres way.

Michael reached his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a switch blade. He held the blade in front of him in a threatening manner. John inwardly cursed that he had left his gun in the flat.

The detective and his blogger took a step back as the blade was revealed. They were not cowards but they didn't want to get themselves stabbed. Not that it could actually hurt John, just create a nasty looking gash…with no blood. That would be hard to explain.

"Come any closer and I will cut you to ribbons." The felon threatened, snarling.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in amusement and opened his mouth to comment when the criminal lunged for him, blade first. Sherlock dodged it but only just. The blade left a long slice in the thick material of his Belstaff.

Sherlock mouth fell open in disbelief. He then looked back up at the offender, rage alight in his cold eyes. The criminal moved a step back despite being the only one armed. Sherlock's lips twisted into a scowl. The saying if looks could kill sprang to the front of John's mind.

The felon shook himself out of his daze and brought the blade into the air again then leapt in Sherlock's general direction. Arms stretched above his head with the tip of the blade aimed at the detective.

The next few seconds were a blur for Sherlock. All he saw was a shape spring in front of him. When his mind finally caught up he saw John holding the criminals arms above his head with the blade hanging loosely from his slack hand. How had John moved so quickly and why was the felon looking down at John in such terror but confusion at the same time?

If only he knew.


	5. The Big Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John saves Sherlock but now the detective wants an explanation which means trouble for John.

What Sherlock couldn't see from his position behind John was that his friend was stood holding the villain in an easy but death grip. No matter how hard the man pulled, John's grasp didn't budge, almost like he couldn't feel the pressure the gang leader was applying at all which was right, he could hardly feel any pull from the man.

In his sudden possessive anger, he had crashed forward and seized Michael Lanstandson's wrists, protecting Sherlock from the blade. How dare this man even think about harming John's genius? John could see that the lawbreaker was trying to twist in his iron grip and escape.

The look of terror on this man's face was funny but the confused expression was simply hilarious. John was going to laugh but it came out as an over protective growl which echoed from deep within his throat. The captured man's face screwed up further in fear. When John spoke his voice was deep and rusty. Not what was expected from a small, blond doctor. The voice came as a shock to the vampire as well; he rarely spoke while the bloodthirsty monster inside of him was in charge.

"What are you doing?" John's deep voice echoed around the darkening alley. Sending shivers racing down Sherlock and Michael's spines. Michael just trembled where he was being held up by John. Without the vampire's strong hand holding him up he would have collapsed onto the floor from weak legs. John removed one hand so he has holding him up by just his left but the vice-like grip remained in place. No weaker even though he was now using the other hand to brush invisible dirt off his jumper.

The doctor jerked his hand so the man jolted like a rag doll in his hands. So fragile, so delicious and so easy to destroy. John could imagine himself ripping the gang leader's arms off his delicate body, like pulling wings off a fly. Quick and painless…for John anyway. Afterwards he could lap up the blood to satisfy his thirst. It's a win-win situation.

"I asked you a question...ANSWER ME!" John demanded. His voice hard and dominate. When the villain didn't respond John frowned, a sympathetic frown, before applying pressure to the felon's hands. The man started to moan and cry out in pain." ANSWER ME THEN!"

"I don't know!" Stuttered the man while withering in pain.

There was a sharp crunch and Sherlock knew exactly what had broken. John was putting pressure onto the now shattered scaphoid and radius. They had broken. The man decided to correct himself to avoid further pain.

"H-h-him! Okay?! Okay?! I was trying to get him!" At this announcement, John shook his head slowly, as if in disappointment.

"You will never attempt to touch my Sherlock Holmes again, understand?" John said through his teeth, squeezing the man's wrist for emphasis on each word. Sherlock's heart fluttered as John claimed him as his.

The man nodded rapidly but John wasn't satisfied and he really was so thirsty. The sudden adrenaline jump had caused the vampire to crave the crimson substance. John leant forward, still holding the man so he couldn't move away, and breathed in deeply smelling the warm blood inches from his parched mouth he could practically taste it. John licked along the jugular vein, feeling the hurried pulse beneath his tongue, running his fangs along the pulse. The vampire moved his mouth up to the criminal's ear.

"I will do anything for Sherlock Holmes. Do you understand?" John whispered into the man's ear. Feeling him nod, John continued, "Good. Now to the matter in hand. Should I let you live?" John paused listening to the increase in heartbeat, "Although, I am ever so thirsty"

John leaned back and opened his mouth, just a fraction, but enough for the man to see the sharp fangs descended from the row of teeth. The criminal started to shake his head violently whilst practically whimpering.

Sherlock could not hear what John was whispering but he knew it was bad news for the man currently being detained by John. He couldn't see John's face consequently he couldn't lip read. He was straining to hear when the man began to whimper and attempted to twist out of John's grip again. John didn't even notice the minuscule change in pressure, minuscule to John anyway. The felon stopped trying to escape after the wince that showed that John had truly broken his wrist.

Sherlock was shocked. How had John been so fast? Since when was he so strong? Sherlock was puzzled as he watched this man he called his best friend.

John suddenly released the hand he was holding with gang leader with and Michael Lanstandson fell to the floor whining and sobbing in pain. Sherlock started to walk around to see John but the doctor turned away. Shielding his face with his hands.

"John? What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, timid for the first time in his life. He reached out a hand but John stepped back.

"Sherlock, I'm a monster. Don't look at me." John's voice was still hard and cold but it seemed lighter when directed at the detective. He maybe a monster but he could still love.

Sherlock placed a hand on John's wrist. Only his fingertips touched flesh but, he noted, John was stone cold. John released a small but defensive growl instinctively. Sherlock only hesitated for a second. The sociopath pulled gently at John's arm, knowing he couldn't force his friend but, he hoped it would encourage him.

"John, don't be ridiculous! You saved my life. Now, face me!" The genius demanded.

The felon on the floor, who was watching the whole exchange, started to giggle. Sherlock shot him a curious look.

"It seems even monstrous beasts have their masters." He chuckled until John sent him a threatening murderous glare through his fingers. Making sure Sherlock didn't see.

John sighed. He really didn't have the energy to deal with Sherlock and then inevitably Mycroft and his minions. Might as well get it over with, the blond thought. John squeezed his eyes firmly shut and pushed his thin lips together before slowly turning towards the detective.

"John, there is nothing wrong with you!" Sherlock sighed, relieved. If something had happened to his first love somebody would have hell to pay. John shook his head slowly then opened his eyes.

Sherlock's mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock. As he noted that John's pupils were blown wide. Unnaturally wide.

"Drugs, John? How? Why? When?" Sherlock started sounding sad and disappointed but by the end of the sentence he just sounded plain confused.

Amusement danced in John's eyes, just for a second, before his forehead creased and he slowly edged his lips apart displaying a set of white teeth but what caught Sherlock's eye was the two fangs hanging down from the top jaw.

Sherlock's mouth widened even further. The sociopath's eyes were as large as dinner plates. Sherlock let go of John's wrist before backing away slowly until he was a few metres way. He then looked almost apologetically at the doctor before running, full speed, back down the street they originally came down.

John stood frozen in place watching Sherlock's receding figure. Anger flowed through him like poison. How could Sherlock just leave him? John trusted him, loved him even. He had just saved his life. How could Sherlock just leave him? You are a monster. Sherlock has just realized that as well. Despite John's knowledge that Sherlock would inevitably leave him, he felt dejected and empty.

John's eyes turned towards the criminal and with a powerful swing knocked him out. He sent a short text to Lestrade with instructions on how to find the felon soon after he sent a text to Sherlock.

I'm sorry-JW

John turned on his heel and left the alley way, not caring about being seen. How could he care now Sherlock knew?

Walking along the darkening streets, he could feel all his energy rapidly leaving his body as his adrenaline fled from his system. He tripped into many people on the way. As his fangs began to retract he whimpered in pain. Each step was becoming harder and each meter seemed like a mile. He felt sick and the pavement beneath him swayed as if he were on a ship. Many people gave him a wide berth thinking he was drunk. How he got back to 221 Baker Street he couldn't say but maybe it was in hope of seeing Sherlock. He leant against the black door feeling defeated and weak.

He frowned in determination before pushing the door open. He stumbled across the threshold and shut the door before leaning back again. He tried to step forward but his leg collapsed leaving him on sprawled on the floor. He stopped and tried to catch his breath ahead of using the banister to haul himself up onto shaky legs. It was using all his energy not to be sick as he felt his body shutting down, he groaned in pain, as he pushed himself towards the stairs.

He gained a meter or so up the stairs under the momentum but now he could feel the life being sucked out of him. Ironic really, since being a vampire meant it was usually him sucking the life out of other people. Then he fell. John wasn't conscious at the time he fell, he was already gone.

John fell into a silent darkness that he could feel suffocating him. He was drowning in the darkness. His only hope was that Sherlock would return and move, or dispose, of him before Mrs Hudson come home to John crumpled into a heap on the floorboards.

John wondered what it would be like to be tested on by Mycroft, not personally obviously although if he was anything like his brother. John internally sighed and gave into the darkness. Not even thinking, just nothing.

His only hope was Sherlock but now, he knew.


	6. Being Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds John but perhaps it's simply too late.

Sherlock ran until he could run no more. His breath came in short gasps and his chest heaved. The genius slipped into a dark back street and leant against the dirty, red brick. He sighed and let his head fall back to rest on the wall. Why had he ran? John would never hurt him. The doctor had proved that just minutes before by jumping in front of a blade for the detective.

The genius knew exactly why he had ran. He ran because John was an impossibility. He couldn't exist. Everything Sherlock had ever been taught piled against it, against him. He breathed in through his mouth and out the nose, attempting to steady his breathing. Sherlock knew that if John really was a vampire then he had been wrong and if he was wrong about this he could be wrong about other things as well. Sherlock couldn't be wrong.

"Emotions," Sherlock huffed to himself. They were getting in the way. He had been blinded by so called 'love', so much so that he couldn't deduce what John was. Which, in reality, should be pretty obvious.

Actually, what was John? Sherlock had naturally assumed a vampire but maybe not. He would have to experiment with DNA and have a look at John's biological make-up. Sherlock was getting excited at the idea, he was almost smiling when his phone chimed.

I'm sorry-JW

The detective sighed. Surely, John shouldn't be apologising, should he? He can't help what he is. Sherlock's good side argued for his best friend but his more sinister side wanted some action as well. He lied to you, it mocked, he told you vampires don't exist. Sherlock's mind sudden whipped back to just over four weeks ago when they had been called to that crime scene. Vampires, it all makes sense now. Although, John seemed a bit out of sorts seeing the body. He must have realised it was one of his kind who had killed the girl or maybe... no, he wouldn't. Would he? John wouldn't kill somebody. Well, he would have to if he wanted to survive, right?

Sherlock hadn't noticed that he had been stood there for over half an hour. He had ignored the next chimes that came from his phone, too absorbed in his own head. Minutes later, he was pulled from his mind palace by the sound of footsteps. It was now almost completely dark and the nearest lamp post barely lit the area underneath itself let alone reach a few meters away into the mouth of an alley. Sherlock looked up and his eyes darted around the area. He was in a rougher part of London so knew to beware of gangs and criminals, who searched for targets in the darkness of a London night, especially now he didn't have John to protect him.

The detective partly hoped that it was John approaching him out of the darkness but another part hoped for anyone but him. Therefore, Sherlock was half disappointed when he noticed that it was two police officers coming towards him, to be more specific it was Lestrade and Donovan. He was now wholly disappointed.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade called.

"I told you it would be the freak." Sherlock could hear Sally remark to her boss.

Sherlock did not have the patience to deal with her tonight. Not after what had happened with John. Wait, why were two police officers coming to see him? Had something happened to John? Sherlock quickly panicked.

Lestrade sighed and sent a disapproving look at his sergeant.

"What?" She asked, slightly shrugging her shoulders, "I did!"

"What's wrong, Lestrade?" Sherlock said while pushing himself away from the wall and ignoring Sally, "Has something happened to John?" The police officer shook his head but was slightly confused before opening his mouth to comment. Sherlock beat him to it.

"If it's not John then what is it? Why are you, a detective inspector, out on a call?"

"We were on our way to Baker Street when there was a call in about a suspicious looking bloke standing alone in an alley. You fitted the description so I thought we could stop and give you a lift back home…if it was you which it is. Since we were on our way to see you and John so..." Lestrade let his voice trail off. Sherlock looked curiously at the older man.

"Statements," Sally rushed to add, "We need your statements. You two did... a little more damage than was expected... even for you two."

Sherlock's eyebrows creased as he thought about what damage had been inflicted on the felon.

"And what damage was that?" Sherlock asked genuinely interested. Had John hurt the man more after he had left?

Lestrade and Donovan raised their eyebrows in disbelief. How could Sherlock not know what damage they had done? Sherlock just stood with a curious expression until one of them answered.

"The shattered wrist, the other one badly bruised and dislocated jaw?" Lestrade said as if it was a question.

Sherlock nodded maybe the criminal had said something about John being a monster. Although, John had called himself one so surely that couldn't offend him.

"Was John okay when you got there?" Sherlock needed to know. He still loved John despite him being a blood sucking vampire. Or, some other behemoth. 

Lestrade gave Sherlock a look usually reserved for witnesses, sympathetic but stern.

"He wasn't there. I got his text telling me where the guy was and when we arrived the criminal had been knocked out then propped against the wall. Have you two had another argument? Whatever it is you should apologise."

They began to walk over to the police car. Sherlock would normally refuse and get a cab but today had been a weird day, to say the least. 

"Why do you assume it is me?"

"It always is. Plus you two are head over heels in love with each other so you might as well just say sorry and get it over with."

Sherlock huffed as he sat on the back seat of the police car the sooner they got back the better.

"I see you're not denying it," Donovan mocked.

"No, no I'm not." His reply was calm and quiet like he was finally accepting it himself.

Donovan twisted around quickly in her chair to stare at the consulting detective open mouthed. Sherlock spoke again before she had a chance.

"Unfortunately, he doesn't feel the same." The tall man said sadly while glazing out the window.

Donovan almost snorted and Lestrade was laughing as well. The sociopath could feel his cheeks going red.

"As if! He is completely obsessed with you. It is blatantly obvious to everyone! Why else would he still be living with you?" Lestrade put in. Sherlock could feel hope blossom from his chest making him smile at the warming sensation.

They pulled up outside 221 Baker Street and all three started to walk up towards the front door. No matter how much Sherlock and Donovan both complained, Lestrade said that Sally had to accompany him. Sherlock hoped that John was inside although he did hope to speak with him without any kind of audience first.

Sherlock pushed the front door open and stepped inside before leaping back at the sight of John lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. His body was twisted into an uncomfortable looking position that made Sherlock wince.

"Shit!" Lestrade shouted when he saw why Sherlock had stopped.

"I knew we should have called an ambulance but no; trust the doctor to brush HIS health aside!" Sally shouted rushing forward to reach John. She put two fingers on his pulse point to feel for a beat but pulled away so suddenly like she had been burnt. She looked up at the two men with sorrow filled eyes. Both men hurried forward to touch John. Lestrade took in a sudden sharp breath when he felt the marble cold skin under his fingers. He looked up at the young detective.

"I'm sorry...I think he has been gone for a while." Lestrade's eyes started to water as the realisation that he had just lost a friend set in.

Sherlock reached forward to reach for John's wrist as soon as he came in contact with the flesh he had a flashback to hours earlier when he had touched the doctor's cold wrist. He felt for a pulse. His face erupted into a smile when he felt an extremely weak beat. One he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been trying so hard. Better than nothing he smiled to himself. Vampire or not, he loved John and would save him.

Sherlock stood suddenly and ushered the police officers out of the door mumbling about ringing an ambulance and organising the funeral service so to leave him to get on with it. Sherlock smiled as he leant against the cold wood of the door. He bent down and hauled John up into a fireman's lift and carried him up the stairs and up again to John's bedroom. The small man was heavier than the detective was expecting.

Sherlock got to the top of the stairs and pushed the door open with his foot, carried John inside and laid him on the bed. Sherlock contemplated pulling the blankets over his friend but decided that it would have no effect on the freezing cold skin. Sherlock looked over John before pivoting on the spot and went downstairs. He had some thinking to do.

Although, John was obviously not human he was still his best friend and Sherlock vowed that he would stay by John's side till he recovered. If he can recover. Sherlock paled at the thought of losing John.

Sherlock sat staring down at his friend for hours on end and when day turned to night he would lie next to his friend, only once actually sleeping.

Lestrade turned up three days later asking about cause of death and funerals. Sherlock grimaced. He still had hope for John to awake. Sherlock rapidly told Lestrade that John had fallen down the stairs after collapsing before ushering the police officer out of the door.

Sherlock fell back onto the sofa. He hadn't had any proper food in days and had not properly slept in more. He was about to leave into his mind palace when there was a sharp knock at the door. He sighed, standing up he made his way over to the door and pulled it open violently.

"I thought I said goodbye, Lestrade." Sherlock groaned, looking at the floor.

The visitor didn't answer so the genius looked up at the man in the doorway. Confusion flickered onto the consulting detective's face. Lestrade wasn't at the open door. It was a tall man with sharp features and intelligent slate grey eyes. He was raising a perfect eyebrow at the detective's assumption. The stranger had dark brown hair, only a bit shorter than Sherlock's wavy locks, and a crooked smile. Most people would probably call the man attractive. He wore an impressive dark grey three piece suit, that Sherlock could see his brother wearing, with dark expensive looking shoes. The man did look suspiciously like one of Mycroft's men. Sherlock frowned. The detective hadn't heard the man walk up the stairs.

Sherlock looked at the man with a questioning eyebrow. The man opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm here for John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr- www.fandom-obsessive.tumblr.com


	7. Alexander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander comes to visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of this story, let's pretend that the stairs to John's bedroom are like inside the door of 221B. Okay? :)

Sherlock eyed the smartly suited man suspiciously before stretching both arms out and touching the door frame, blocking any way of access.

"I'm afraid you can't have John" Sherlock drawled to the mysterious man.

"Mr Holmes," The man scolded sternly."I need John."

The man started to gently push past Sherlock but the detective realised what the stranger was doing so his grip tightened on the frame, turning his knuckles white from the pressure.

"Well, I apologise but John's busy." Sherlock snapped sarcastically.

"Mr Holmes, please. I don't want to hurt you but I will if I have to." An elegant eyebrow rose further.

Despite the man's warning Sherlock rolled his eyes. This man seemed too well brought up to start a scrap in the doorway.

The genius scoffed, "Yeah? Well you're going to have to hurt me to get to John."

The man sighed in exasperation before quickly hooking his hands under Sherlock's armpits and lifting him, without strain, as if he was made of paper. The sociopath was disgusted at the contact. The man started to walk forward so Sherlock's fingers slipped from the door frame. The man set the detective down onto his own feet and stared at him as the genius rubbed his hands which were going white from the pressure he was applying to keep himself there.

"Now we are out of the doorway, I believe proper introductions are in order," The man held out a hand for Sherlock to shake but he just looked at it in disgust. The man lowered his hand with another sigh."So you must be Sherlock Holmes. I have read all of the files on you; I must say they are very impressive." The man put a heavy looking briefcase onto the floor. It had an emblem on it that Sherlock couldn't place.

"I'm surprised Mycroft let you read any of his files." Sherlock tried to make it sound as insulting as possible but curiosity tinged his voice.

"Mycroft?" The tall stranger asked, confused." One minute... Isn't he the one that works in parliament? Nosey bugger, I have to admit. He has always got his big nose in our business."

The stranger's posh English accent sounded strange saying disrespectful things like that about Sherlock's brother. Usually, the upper class types respect Mycroft and his position. Sherlock's brow furrowed.

"So, you don't work for Mycroft?" Sherlock questioned. This man might just be trying to get to John.

"Goodness, NO!" The suited man almost shouted. A look of disgust fell upon his features.

"Beware what you say. The flat is bugged." Sherlock warned.

"Don't worry, we disabled it. All Mycroft's men will be getting is static and they will believe that the problem is on their end," The man chuckled. "Alexander, by the way."

The man extended his hand again but this time Sherlock took it. It was stone cold. That answers a lot, Sherlock thought. Alexander saw realisation light up Sherlock's features so smiled at Sherlock.

"You're-you're a ..." The detective's voice trailed off.

"Yes, a vampire," Alexander cheerfully finished the other man's sentence."I was sent to help John by the vampires who keep order and peace and all of that nonsense... I would have come earlier but I was watching you through your brothers systems and was kind of hoping you would guess but..."

Alexander looked at Sherlock with a slight air of disappointment. He looked down at his watch before back to the confused genius.

"How long had it been since the last provider?" Alexander asked seriously, looking at the sociopath expectantly.

"Last what?" Sherlock was truly puzzled by this vampire terminology.

"Provider," Alexander said as if he was taking to a moron." When was the last time John drank blood." Alexander drawled like he was talking to a foreigner who spoke no English.

"I don't know. Probably about five weeks ago but I'm not certain. I think I may have made him use the last of his energy. He protected me against a criminal. I only just found out about him being a vampire after that but we were called to a crime scene a while ago, a woman had been drained of blood. I'm guessing that was the last time."

Alexander paled. His eyes widened and his mouth set into a disapproving line. He shook his head sadly. Alexander proceeded to pick the briefcase off the floor and headed up towards John's room. Sherlock followed the vampire as Alexander continued to speak on the way.

"I should have come earlier. He has left it way too long... again. This isn't the first time I have had to bring him around. He doesn't like feeding off humans but animal blood has almost no effect on us. He tries to avoid feeding as often as possible. That's why he has a job in the hospital where there is a large blood bank, stops him feeling guilty… Five weeks? That's impressive. Bad, but impressive never the less. He must have felt so ill before he fell unconscious. The average vampire can last three weeks with no blood. Although, it varies from vamp to vamp. The longest I've ever been is two weeks before I couldn't stand up. John just doesn't want to be a 'monster' but we need the blood to fill our empty veins."

They had made it up stairs and Alexander was kneeling on the floor by John's bed, opening the briefcase. It was full of long dark bags. Full of liquid, blood, Sherlock supposed.

"It must have been difficult for him in Afghanistan with all those people getting shot and wounded," Alexander continued. Then the vampire started to chuckle. "He has his own bed!" He said like he couldn't believe it.

"So?!" Sherlock was getting annoyed with the happy vampire. His best friend was in a coma-like thing and Alexander was laughing. How dare he? Sherlock's mind fumed.

"We don't sleep! Wait, let me guess he has been eating food as well!" Confused, Sherlock nodded in confirmation. Alexander laughed again. "Gross! He must really like you to be trying so hard to hide his true self. Food is vile. Blood, well now, that is something else."

Alexander had stopped laughing and had pulled out a large syringe. Shockingly large. The vampire looked up at Sherlock and smirked at his curious and partly awe struck face.

"We are not invincible but we have a very strong skin." The vampire told the genius.

Alexander proceeded to pierce the large needle into the dark bag and collected up some deep red liquid. He ran his fingers over the small hole after he withdrew the syringe then licked along his fingertips. Closing his eyes, he smiled in satisfaction and Sherlock could see two fangs descending. When the vampire opened his eyes a second later they darted over to the genius.

"That was just between us, okay?" He spoke in hushed tones, conspiratorially.

The detective didn't answer, just stared at the vampire. The vampire moved the syringe until it hovered over an empty vein in John's arm before turning and looking expectantly at the sociopath. He jerked his head towards the door. Sherlock looked confused.

"John is going to be parched when he wakes up and I don't think it will be water he will be craving so unless you want to become his next provider then shift it. At least outside the door but I would suggest further. I've tried to keep the blood fresh in dark bags; it stops the light ruining the taste but if there is a source of blood meters away that is still fresh and warm then nothing would be able to stop a craving vampire. Nothing." Alexander explained.

Sherlock grudgingly shuffled outside the door and halfway down the stairs. He would go no further; Just in case John needed him. John won't need me he has Alexander to help him. Jealousy raged through the detective. Why couldn't he help John, not that posh twat?

As Sherlock sat waiting, he wondered a why Mycroft hadn't noticed the strange behaviour in 221b then his mind flashed back to what Alexander said about disabling the cameras. Obviously, the vampires liked their privacy from an overweight politician so decided that if they wanted privacy to do vampirey things then they would get privacy to do vampirey things. Sherlock wasn't sure if vampirey was the technical term and vowed to find out.

He was starting to get bored when he heard a bedside lamp smash against the opposite wall. John must be awake. A flustered looking Alexander then slipped through the door pulling it shut behind him. His tie was loosened and his hair spiked out in awkward angles. Sherlock tried not to laugh but failed. Alexander sent him an unimpressed look while attempting to flatten down his hair with little success.

"Vampires aren't meant to sleep. It is so unnatural. This unfortunately makes waking up a pain. Quite literally, it is painful. We get headaches and suffer nausea. As a consequence, we end up in a bad mood as you could probably hear a second ago... anyway I'm off. I have official vampire business and all that to do. I suggest you leave him at LEAST ten minutes for him to recover and finish feeding. He won't be fully back to normal until his next natural feed which I suggest you make him take some time tonight. He might be a bit animalistic until then. Very protective and can get aggressive, for example."

The man started walking back down the stairs before turning and saying up to the genius.

"Mycroft is on his way up. I can smell him. So you might want to come down and look organised. He must be worried about the cameras but I will get them reactivated as soon as possible. Just ignore any loud noises from John and don't let Mycroft know. I've spent enough of my time hiding it from him. Please don't spoil it." Alexander just turned and left Sherlock sat on the stairs alone. Emotions churned inside the man, nothing like this had even happened before. Although, he never knew that anything like this was actually real!

He started to make his way into the living room when he bumped into his brother, who had a furious expression painted on his face. Sherlock wondered what Alexander had said to the politician which he despised so much.

"Sherlock? Why was Alexander Spruce in your flat and why did he look a complete mess?" The parliamentarian was more accustomed to seeing the tall man looking fine and well-groomed. Mycroft paused for Sherlock to answer but when he didn't respond he misinterpreted his brother's silence for embarrassment."Oh Sherlock, please don't tell me you are sleeping with him." Mycroft almost begged.

"Who is he, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked not bothering to answer his brother's question.

"He works inside the government. I don't know where but he just seems to always pop up and get in the way. I've had investigators working on him but apparently he his pretty high up because, officially, he doesn't exist. It's like he is top secret or something ridiculous. How did you contact him? I've spent days searching for that man in the past."

Sherlock came to the decision that he would ignore his brother until he left. The next ten minutes was filled with the screeching of the detective's violin until the older man finally admitted defeat and left.

-ViH- 

Sherlock decided it had been long enough so began to make his way up to John. He knocked on the door and slowly pushed it open. He was shocked when he saw John crouching defensively over the briefcase that held the dark blood bags and hissing at the detective. His fangs were descended and his pupils were blown wide. Sherlock was suddenly very grateful of Alexander's warning of 'animalistic and aggressive'. Despite his dislike for the other vampire.

Blood dripped from John's fangs as the doctor crouched hissing at the detective. The genius stepped back out and closed the door.

Okay, maybe it hadn't quite been long enough yet.


	8. Surprise. Not Dead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has to deal with a Vampire John... Oh and Lestrade has to be told that John isn't dead.

Sherlock backed away from the room in fear. What if John leapt after him now deciding he wanted something fresher? Sherlock ran down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him and collapsed down into his chair. John wouldn't hurt me. He maybe craving but surely it was still John. Wasn't it? John wouldn't hurt him. Would he? Sherlock was starting to panic and began to pace the floor when his phone chimed making him jump. He glared at the device before reading the text.

It's still John. Just give him time, I did say at least 10 minutes. He probably wouldn't want your blood anyway. - Alexander

Sherlock sighed, not this arrogant sod again. He rolled his eyes before replying. Sherlock was a slightly offended by Alexander's suggestion that John wouldn't want his blood. What was wrong with it?

Are you watching me? I thought you had 'business' to attend to... Why wouldn't John want my blood? - SH

Yes, I'm watching you. I can also multitask. I smelt your blood. Let me guess, heroin? - Alexander

Why would that make it bad? - SH

Makes it taste disgusting. Although, the longer you've been clean the better it starts to taste. By the way, Mycroft is reading your texts and is wondering who you are texting. We've blocked mine from his prying eyes. So please avoid any vampire references. -Alexander

Text this number if you need any help in the future (with John) -Alexander.

Sherlock looked up at one of the small cameras and made a rude gesture at it. Knowing that both annoying posh secret government people would receive the message. He could imagine both completely different reactions. Mycroft's disapproval and Alexander could possibly be smirking.

A creak on the stairs leading to John's bedroom caused Sherlock's eyes to dart towards the noise. He held his breath as John stumbled down the stairs. It had been over ten minutes since Sherlock went up to the room.

John looked awful. He had a slight hung over look about him. Could vampires get drunk? He would have to ask. John looked about the flat for a few seconds, as if he was looking for something. He didn't appear to find whatever he has searching for instead he shrugged and walked over to his chair. His eyes moved around slowly until they stopped and focused on a random point on the floor. His pupils were still large and Sherlock wondered if his fangs were still out or if they had already gone back to normal.

"God, I hate Alexander sometimes." John's short sentence told Sherlock that his fangs were still descended. They caused John to gain a slight lisp that Sherlock hadn't noticed when they had apprehended that criminal. Sherlock thought it made him sound quite cute. Cute? Did Sherlock really think John sounded cute? Oh no, he is losing all control over his vocabulary.

Sherlock studied John for the next few minutes of awkward silence before the doctor decided that he was bored of the silence.

"How long was I out?"

"Only a few days." Sherlock said still staring at his flat mate.

The blond man let out a small hum. The detective realised it was the first time they had spoken since he had ran away from John; this made him feel instantly guilty. Sherlock watched as his friend looked around the room lazily. His eyes and body were slow, not by choice the detective suspected. Sherlock soon got bored watching John so began looking at his nails in disinterest.

"You don't have to sit there!" The vampire snapped, his fangs descending a little further as a result of the sudden flash of anger. "I'm sorry if I'm boring you, Mr Detective. I didn't ask you to sit there. Go if you wish."

John was angry. John was beyond angry, he was furious. He didn't even know why. Yet again I am acting like a teenager with their mood swings! John thought grimly.

Sherlock looked taken back but didn't comment instead he pulled out his phone and began to search the internet. Alexander was right, Sherlock thought miserably. Why did that posh twat have to be right? This was not his doctor. Not the man he knew.

John began to mutter an apology but Sherlock interrupted him.

"No need to apologise! Alexander informed me that you should go out to feed tonight. He said you would be back to normal after." Sherlock advised his friend. The genius was hopeful that he would go back to normal.

"As normal as I can be, you mean? Now you know, I don't think I will be eating bloody food again. Ugh! It was disgusting!" John cringed in memory.

Sherlock could not believe that the doctor had been forcing himself to eat food even when Sherlock didn't eat John still did, just trying to be normal.

"Well," John announced,"It's getting dark. So… I'm going to head out."

Sherlock's eyes lit up at the possibility of seeing a vampire feeding.

"NO! You are not coming with me!" John leapt up grabbed his coat and left being too quick for Sherlock to realise what was going on. Damn his supernatural speed.

The genius sat for about twenty minutes staring at the clock. Had John found his next provider? Had he killed them? How long would it take? Sherlock should have asked that before the vampire left.

He decided to do something productive with his time. He needs to break the news to Lestrade that John wasn't actually dead... He probably should have done that earlier.

Lestrade jumped as his phone chimed waking him up. He jerked back into a sitting position on his sofa. His eyes shot up to the clock,5:58pm, but it was already getting dark. Please don't be the yard. Please don't be the yard. Not the yard. Anyone but the yard. He reached for his phone and pulled up the home screen. A text from Sherlock sprang onto the page. He sighed sympathetically. Poor man, he lost his best friend, flat mate and secret crush, Greg thought. He opened up the message.

I need you. Come to the flat-SH

Greg raised an eyebrow in confusion. What could the young man want?

Oh my God! He better not be suicidal! Lestrade shot out of his flat racing down the stairs to his car. He got to Sherlock's in record time, probably breaking a few traffic laws in the process but this was his consulting detective. He needs him for his brain. That brain would be no good to him splattered across a room.

Greg burst into the living room to sigh at the sight of Sherlock, unharmed, sat on his chair. The policeman stood in the doorway waiting for an explanation when one didn't come he closed the door and sat opposite the genius in John's chair. Sherlock looked up as if he had only just realised the other man was there.

"Ah, Lestrade. That was quick." He commented before leaning back and staring at the man, hands in a prayer position.

"What do you need, Sherlock?"

"Need? Nothing... oh and by the way John's not dead."

Lestrade looked up at him with a sympathetic look plastered across his face. "Sherlock, really? I was there. He had no pulse. He has been gone for almost a week."

Sherlock shook his head as if in sympathy for the older man. They then had an argument. It was tedious and repetitive. It was the same sentence argued over and over nearly non-stop.

"Lestrade, I'm telling you. He is alive. I saw him."

"Sherlock, he died. You told me yourself. He collapsed on the stairs so he fell. Sherlock grief can do things to your mind."

"No, Lestrade, he didn't. He did collapse but not on the stairs. I lied about that. I am not seeing things!"

Despite Lestrade feeling sorry for the man, he still didn't want Sherlock delusional.

"Sherlock, Sherlock. Please just calm down and think about this logically. We both know that-." Lestrade's pleading was drawn to a halt as an excitable doctor swooped into the living room, practically buzzing. Lestrade started at him with wide eyes and his jaw fell open.

On seeing the policeman John darted quickly (but still slow enough to be a human) into the kitchen. Lestrade looked towards the kitchen and back to the bastard smirking opposite him.

"What we're you saying Lestrade?"

"Wha? How? Uh... what?" The detective inspector mumbled confused.

"Sherlock!" John called from the kitchen. The aforementioned man cringed when he heard the lisp in John's voice. "Can I speak with you a second?"

Darn! He still had his fangs out and his pupils will probably still be enlarged. He cannot face Greg like this!

Sherlock looked apologetically at the policeman before standing and walking over to John in the kitchen. His suspicions were correct. John had his fangs on display and his pupils were blown wide. The vampire didn't look impressed with Sherlock.

"Why didn't you tell me that he was going to be here?" John snapped quietly. He was bouncing on the spot and his hand was twitching. He needed to find some way of burning this energy. He hoped he could use the flat as somewhere to be natural but when people keep just turning up it is definitely out of the question.

"I was telling him that you are not dead. I have to admit I expected you to take longer." The detective replied in hushed tones. The angry vampire in front of him was actually quite intimidating, especially since he had his fangs out and Sherlock had seen him earlier acting all animalistic.

"Well, you don't exactly hang around after murder!" John whispered harshly at Sherlock remembering the policeman in the other room. Unfortunately, the police officer in question had just stepped into the room. Lestrade stopped walking and froze staring at John.


	9. Bad Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They boys have to come up with an excuse for John's behaviour.

John snapped his mouth shut, shielding his fangs from the DI's sight. Lestrade's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw the sight which was John Watson. A John Watson who looked slightly high... actually, scratch that, he looked extremely high. His pupils were dark and so large it hid almost all the colour that used to be surrounding them. He was almost shaking with all the built up power that was forming as his body absorbed the blood.

Greg moved his lips but couldn't bring himself to speak. One of his closest friends had just come back from the dead also had apparently started taking drugs. John's eyes rapidly moved over to Sherlock's face and they shared a look. They both knew what conclusion the police officer was going to draw but they didn't know whether to go along with it or lie through their teeth (and fangs, in John's case).

Lestrade's mind raced as he tried to decide what to bring up first, murder or John's unnaturally large pupils. Probably the pupils.

Looking between the two men in front of him, Greg sighed. John was a good man and Sherlock had gotten his claws into him and ruined him. That was the only answer there could be, Sherlock had caused John to start using. Lestrade frowned. Just when he thought Sherlock had found someone who would help him with his problem, Sherlock had poisoned them. Greg didn't know who to confront first. He stood turning from one and to the other. He would have to hurry up it looked like John was about to explode! That is it, the last straw.

"JOHN! How could you! After everything we went through with this idiot and all the drug raids, danger nights and constant support we had to offer. You knew all this but yet still chose to abuse your body and, being a doctor, you'd think you would have seen the consequences of drugs!" Lestrade raged at the doctor when a sudden bright idea burst to the front of Sherlock's thoughts. That could work, he thought.

"Lestrade, no,no,no. You've got it all wrong." Sherlock started before the police officer could continue. John flashed a look at the genius warning him about telling Lestrade of John's problem. "Well, not everything but most!" Sherlock continued cheerfully.

John cringed; this had better be good otherwise John was in the dog house. Lestrade's expression turned expectant so Sherlock continued.

"He was drugged," The genius nodded as if he was agreeing with himself. "By a gang. I was investigating them so they kidnapped John and drugged him. They returned my faithful blogger this morning. He could barely stand he was so drugged. Luckily, I was here to act has his doctor-slash-savoir"

"Okay, no need to get carried away." The vampire mumbled trying to keep his lips in front of his fangs.

"Oh," Lestrade said plainly.

"Yes, exactly. So, you see no need to blame myself or my companion here for his…" Sherlock gestured to the air as he searched for the right word "drugged up behaviour and appearance."

Sherlock frowned; he wanted to find a better word than that.

"Okay, I guess." The policeman looked down at his shoes, embarrassed that he had leapt to a conclusion that made both his friends look bad.

John turned away from Greg, smiling slightly. He reached for the kettle and filled it with water.

"I'm guessing that Sherlock hasn't offered you tea." John's lisp was still prominent and his words were nowhere near back to normal. The sociopath smiled happy to have gotten John out of that situation. Lestrade agreed that Sherlock's hosting skills weren't up to scratch and that tea would be nice before following the genius back to the living room. Lestrade spoke slowly and clearly always conscious that he was taking to someone on drugs.

I will have to get him angry more often just to here that adorable lisp. No! That's dangerous. I will have to make someone else make him angry. Sherlock looked pleased with himself. His plan was coming together. Sherlock shook his head violently. He needed to stop trying to get John to sound cute. I still can't believe I called him cute AND adorable.

The consulting detective finished his explanation about John's death to Lestrade as the man himself bounced in carrying a tray of now mostly spilt tea. When the doctor noticed the mess around the mugs he just giggled almost uncontrollably before bounding out to the kitchen to find a cloth.

He sprang onto the room again and started to clear the puddle. He ohhhhed and ahhhed as he watched the liquid moving about on the tray. When Sherlock sent him a questioning look John simply pointed to his eyes before mumbling 'extra HD' just loud enough for Sherlock but to quiet for the policeman.

Sherlock was thinking about what it must be like to see in ultra HD and to see every hair, every freckled from many meters away when Lestrade interrupted his ponderings.

"Promise me he won't get drugged again. It's like having a child in the room. I don't want to take my eyes off him in case he breaks something."

"He won't break anything! But I cannot promise anything about the drugging. This is ever so entertaining." Lestrade's scowl made Sherlock clarify that he was joking.

John stood and smiled a very toothy grin at his flat mate secretly signalling that his vampire-to-human change was over. To Lestrade John just looked like an over happy drug addict.

John really was happy. He felt so full of energy and could still taste the blood on his tongue slightly. John was pacing the room when Lestrade's mobile phone chimed interrupting the conversation the two detectives were having.

Lestrade pulled out his phone and pulled the device to his ear. He mumbled into it a few times. The sociopath's eyes lit up as he listened to the conversation.

"You want to pick up the vampire hoax case again?" Lestrade directed the inquiry at Sherlock.

John and Sherlock shared a look.

"Go ahead. Don't just stay because of my condition but I'll have to stay." John told Sherlock and the genius pulled a face being to disagree when Lestrade saved John the argument.

"I have to agree with John. Sorry mate. He can't come onto a crime scene while stoned." Lestrade had misinterpreted John's hesitation at going.

This was going to be one of John's providers again. He knew it. John wasn't going to go and stare at the poor man he had just killed. Sherlock knew this as well.

"Will you be alright alone?" The taller man asked John.

The blond doctor sighed before nodding and confirming that he had stayed home alone before. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. John knew that Sherlock was uncertain about leaving him but the detective wanted to go and see what his best friend was actually capable of.

Lestrade was waiting for an answer from Sherlock. "So... you coming?"

Sherlock looked down at John before asking for all the details.

"Male, early thirties, found in an alley with two puncture wounds on his neck and no blood but more damage than last time it's as if they had put up a fight, apparently."

The young consulting detective agreed to go all while never taking his eyes of his flat mate.

Lestrade turned out of the kitchen and started down the stairs while Sherlock gathered his coat and scarf, the former of which had been mended by Mrs Hudson after the run in with the criminal. He was about to exit the flat when John grabbed his arm.

"Late thirties. Not early." John mumbled before bounding up to his bedroom. Sherlock sighed before a smile ghosted across his lips.

The silence was awkward in the police car. Neither of them wanted to speak about what had happened, Sherlock in the fear of revealing too much and Lestrade was still just slightly confused.

"What John said about murder..." The DI started but his voice trailed off. He didn't really want to have his friend locked up for murder. That's why he tried to ignore what had been said. John had literally said 'You don't exactly hang around after a murder' so that was literal proof. 

Sherlock didn't answer causing the older man to look in his direction. Sherlock just then realised that the man was expecting an answer so rapidly try to come up with a plausible excuse. It was a challenge even for someone with Sherlock's intellect. John had practically admitted to murder. Excuse,excuse,excuse. I need an excuse!

"It's a saying, Lestrade!" Sherlock fixed the detective inspector with a look that said 'idiot' "Like when you get a bargain in a shop then leave quickly before the owners can change their minds."

Sherlock was quite impressed with his own lie. It does make sense.

A look of understanding fell upon Greg's features. Obviously, the younger man's lie had been successful.

"Oh, I've never heard it before."

"I believe John picked it up while in Afghanistan. One of the soldiers used to say it constantly... apparently." He was getting carried away with this. Change the subject! "So this murder, same situation as last time with the alley and everything?"

Lestrade confirmed that the situation was identical to the one a few weeks before apart from the victim had a few broken bones. Sherlock sighed; they would have to find a way for John to hide the bodies.

They arrived at the crime scene as Anderson was inches away from touching the body.

"No, stop!" Sherlock's shout sounded almost desperate and distressed. It causes Anderson to turn and sigh.

"Lestrade! Why? We don't need him!" Anderson's tone mirrored one of a child who wasn't getting their way.

"Well apparently, you do need me so if you would be so kind as to get out of my way. I would be eternally grateful." The detective made sure that his voice was sickeningly sweet and polite apart from after he said to get out of the way from then on it was more of a snarl.

Anderson visibly gained in confidence as his non-official girlfriend walked over. Sherlock sighed internally. Oh great.

"Hey look it's the Freak! Hey Freak, where's your little pet? Boyfriend got tired of following a freak around?" Donovan jeered at the young detective.

"No, actually. He's at home because he is stoned." The sociopath snapped. It was worth embarrassing John and ruining his reputation to see look on her face.

"What?" Anderson sounded more confused than shocked. That's not good enough, Sherlock thought.

"He's stoned. High, wasted, smashed, flying, tripping, wrecked, doped, off his face, under the influence. Take your pick." With that display of colourful vocabulary the genius turned and strode off in the general direction of the body.

Anderson and Donovan stared offer him open mouthed before turning to their boss.

"Seriously?"

Lestrade let a small smile dance across his face. If this was the consequence of his friend being high then John needed to start doing drugs. The look on their faces was unforgettable. He snapped a photo on his phone which he would send to John.

"Yep." The word rolled of the police officer's tongue casually before he turned and followed the consulting detective, chuckling to himself.

They two police officers were left frozen in place. John doing drugs?

"I don't think we've heard the whole story." Donovan muttered as she shuffled back over to the tape that marked the boundaries of the crime scene. Anderson just stared after her.


	10. Glitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander And Mycroft Visit.

Sherlock did his usual performance of deduction and observation around the deceased man. John was right; he was in his late thirties. That was what Sherlock pointed out first. Lestrade asked quite sceptically how he knew that so quickly. Sherlock only sighed and asked if Greg wanted his opinion or not. Of course Greg then told him to carry on.

Sherlock's mouth twisted into a small frown. He hadn't thought about how strong John could be. He realised he would be powerful but from the look of it, John had snapped this man's arm like it was a tooth pick.

Sherlock gently pulled the man's eyelids open. His brown eyes looked sorrowful in death, as if he felt sorry for his murderer. Sherlock slid the man's eyes closed again. He now understood why John didn't want to accompany him. This was making him feel depressed which surprised the young detective for he usually tried to hide all emotions. Apart from when it came to John. At the thought of him Sherlock's stomach flipped and he could feel butterflies.

The man was, as John said, in his late thirties. He had short black hair with brown eyes. He had lines from stress etched onto his face. Sherlock looked down at the man's large hands. Divorced, spends a lot of his time typing and he is reasonably affluent. The man was tall, not as tall as Sherlock but he still would have towered over the short doctor.

On further inspection of the man's wallet Sherlock finds that his name is George Cosmestone and he had two children, a little girl and a teenage son. Sherlock vowed to hide this fact from his doctor. It would probably cause John to try and kill himself. Sherlock squirmed at the idea of living without his beloved friend.

Sherlock stood up and stared down at the man. His arm was broken in several places and the man had a fractured ankle. Sherlock had really been underestimating John. Lestrade appeared next to Sherlock with his note pad gripped between his fingers.

"It just gets me so angry. Why would you do this? All this just for some hoax? Some people are just monsters."

"They might not be!" Sherlock snapped before he could realise what he was saying.

"Give me one reason why that whoever did this is not a horrible monster."

They stood in silence for a minute or two with Greg turned facing Sherlock and Sherlock looking down at the floor his mind searching for something, anything to say. When Sherlock shrugged, Lestrade took it as a sign to say he had won their little debate.

"Anyway, have you got anything? People are getting curious. The longer we can keep this out of the media the better." Lestrade asked the tall brunette.

"The name is George Cosmestone. Around the age of 37-38. He has two children, a girl and a boy, with who I assume is his ex-partner. He got divorced within the last two years and has a desk job. His arm is broken is several places and his ankle is fractured. Oh, and his divorce was a direct result of his affair."

"Okay." Lestrade was taking down notes. "Any idea why they targeted him?"

Sherlock looked back down to the man. This is something he also wanted to know. Why had John chosen this man and not a different person who was also walking down the same street? Was there some sort of difference? Was this person's blood more attractive to vampires than any other persons who passed his way?

Sherlock needed to find out. He had a thirst for knowledge and right now he was parched.

"No. I don't know why." Sherlock grumbled.

He spent a few more minutes explaining what he knew and how he knew it. He then made his excuses and rushed home to John. Lestrade watched as the genius ran down the road and tried to hail a cab, getting frustrated when each one passed him. How could they not see the feelings they had for each other? Sherlock eventually got a cab and raced off to Baker Street. Lestrade let out a deep breath. If Sherlock truly was a sociopath, he would eat his own hat. Lestrade then turned 180 degrees and strode back under the yellow tape into his crime scene.

Sherlock made it back in good time but it was now late. He glanced down at his watch, 9:12. Not too late though. The detective was making his way up the stairs when something peculiar caught his eye. There was glitter on the floor. Not much and had obviously not been put there intentionally. Sherlock then heard John before he could see him. John was giggling from somewhere inside the flat. The sound made a small smile grace Sherlock's usually reserved expression.

Continuing up the rest of the stairs, Sherlock reached for the door handle just as Mrs Hudson came out of her door. The man looked down to see the old woman. She had concern written on her face.

"Is John alright? It's just that he has been laughing and giggling a lot. I went up to see him but he wouldn't open the door... just kept laughing. I asked if you were there and he told me that you weren't so I phoned you but after you didn't answer I didn't know what to do." The old woman had started to make her way up the stairs and was now stood next to the young man. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock was confused. The detective pulled out his phone to see that he did have a missed call. One from each Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and Alexander. What had Mrs Hudson done to be apologetic about? He turned and opened the door. Mrs Hudson followed him in. His mouth fell open when he saw the flat but then turned into a scowl when he saw who was sat in his living room conversing.

There was one man and a vampire in his living room which happened to be covered in glitter. Glitter of every colour littered the living room floor and on top of the sofa and arm chairs. It looked like a group of toddlers had been given the opportunity to decorate the flat. Sherlock had a questioning look on his face. Alexander and Mycroft stopped talking as the door opened and directed their gaze curiously towards the door. Sherlock heard Mrs Hudson gasp in horror as she saw the state of the flat. Sherlock could hear John upstairs in his room making lots of noise. Mycroft smirked as Sherlock couldn't deduce what had happened. Meanwhile, Alexander stood brushing some glitter off his perfectly pressed suit before turning to Sherlock with a friendly smile.

"Hello again, Sherlock," Alexander held out his hand for the detective to shake and Sherlock did begrudgingly. He noted the cold flesh. "Mycroft was just telling me about how Mrs Hudson called him regarding John. That's why he is here. I was also happening to be stopping by when he was here." The tone in which Alexander said this implied that he had come after seeing Mycroft entering the flat via the man's own CCTV cameras. Probably in an attempt to avoid Mycroft annoying John and becoming his next provider.

"Sherlock," Mycroft began making Sherlock sigh. "What is he doing here?" Mycroft was pointing at the posh vampire.

"Ummm... We have been looking into a case."

"Don't lie to me, baby brother." Mycroft sneered.

The vampire could clearly see that this would get them nowhere. The Holmes brothers knew each other to well so he decided to take over. He has had a few hundred years more experience in lying than the detective anyway.

"Sherlock, there is no point in lying," Alexander said to Sherlock before turning to speak with the older Holmes. Sherlock was forced into a stunned silence. How could Alexander even debate telling Mycroft? "No actually. I am here to see John."

Every single movement in Alexander's body had been trained to hide the lies. He was trained to lie the truth. To tell the truth but bend what needed bending because honestly he was here for John but he was actually trying to stop him biting Mycroft or Mycroft finding out.

"John?" Mycroft asked incredulously.

"Yes, why? Is there some reason why you believe John isn't worth the time of a government official?" Alexander snapped at the overweight politician.

Mycroft was flustered and was pretty much speechless.

"Uh. No. No. I-I didn't mean that." Mycroft tried to amend.

"Good. I have been looking out for John for a long time, do you understand? Don't make me do something I will regret, you posh swine. I will do almost anything to help or protect him and if I hear you have laid a fat finger on him, you will regret it. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Alexander raged darkly. He'd taken personal offence to Mycroft's dismissal of the good doctor.

Sherlock was biting his lip to stop himself bursting into laughter at the expression on Mycroft's face. Alexander was towering above the detective's brother, who was sat down. I'm beginning to like this man, Sherlock mused to himself. Alexander proceeded to straighten up and head towards John's room. He stopped when he saw Mrs Hudson cowering behind Sherlock.

Gracefully, Alexander composed himself and held a hand out to the elderly woman.

"I apologise for that display. Alexander Spruce," As she grasped his hand he raised it elegantly to his lips. "At your service."

Mrs Hudson blushed at the attention from the good-looking young man. She didn't mind the display as 'Alexander' had called it. He was protecting John so she didn't mind.

Alexander was making his way up to John when her call halted any progress up the stairs.

"Alex, dear?" Alexander winced at the nickname but turned to face her never the less. "Is he alright? John, I mean. Is John alright?"

Alexander smiled kindly at the woman before putting any of her worries to rest and leaving to assist John.

The room was silent after his departure. Sherlock shuffled through the glitter and threw himself into his armchair. He studied Mycroft for a few minutes as giggling and cheerful shouts were heard from upstairs.

"Speechless?" Sherlock mocked his shocked brother. People in his circles didn't talk like that, let alone threaten another member of the government.

"Why is he here to see John? I turned up, then less than five minutes later he was there. Standing at the door laughing at me struggling to communicate with your flat mate." Mycroft grumbled.

"He always comes to see John. They go back a long way, apparently. Oh and he doesn't like you by the way. He says you are always sticking your nose where it isn't required, brother."

Mrs Hudson was sat on the sofa listening to the exchange. The boys had all but forgotten she was there until she spoke up.

"He's very protective of John," she stated. Then a light lit up in her eyes. "Are they together?" She asked excitedly.

Sherlock's face screwed up in disgust before firmly saying, "No, definitely not."

Mycroft pulled a face but said, "It would make sense though. Don't give me that look, baby brother. Think about it, he is very protective of John and when he arrived John seemed much happier. It seems logical..."

"No, they are not sleeping together!" Sherlock fumed. How dare they imply that John was sleeping with that arrogant sod? Although, Alexander would probably be good for him. They were both vampires so he knew how it felt to be craving blood. They would live for around the same amount of time and nobody could say that Alexander wasn't good looking. He was tall and thin, had manners and understood social obligations and expectations. Sherlock sighed, why would John choose me over a perfect, government official vampire?

No! They were not together and he would prove it. He leapt to his feet and, following the trail of glitter, was up the stairs before the others in the room had registered what was happening. As soon as they understood what Sherlock was doing they both rushed after him.

Sherlock burst into John's room and stopped dead after he had entered about a meter. Mrs Hudson and Mycroft stopped just behind him. All three mouths fell open and each pair of eyes widened at the sight presented before them.

Alexander was straddling John. Alexander had his suit jacket off and had it folded on the floor. The vampire was in the process of hand cuffing both of John's hands to the headboard. Alexander didn't notice the other three in the room because he was too distracted in trying to restrain John in vampire proof handcuffs. The handcuffs were made from a mix of different metals making them extremely strong but Alexander wasn't taking any chances so had used two pairs on each wrist. John was too distracted by Alexander. He was attempting to buck the vampire off him but with his arms above his head, even with his extra energy, he couldn't get him off. John was a strong vampire but not that strong.

Unfortunately, for the two vampires it looked more like some kind of foreplay than a struggle.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The energy flowing through John becomes too much.

John suddenly stopped bucking and stilled, looking over at the others in the room. Sherlock noted that his pupils were blown wide again. From anger possibly? Alexander noticed John had stopped just after he had secured the handcuffs. Alexander followed John's gaze to see a small group of people watching him restrain John. He took in all their expressions before realising what it must look like. He started to blush and unfortunately, for him, he had fed only three days ago so had plenty of blood in his system to provide a fierce blush.

Alexander was too embarrassed to move but John noticed an opportunity arise and, always the military man, he took it. Using all his strength, John bucked up causing Alexander to go flying across the room. The vampire landed on his feet which was to be expected but it still looked impressive. John then tried to pull himself up forgetting about the double vampire proof handcuffs that connected him to the bed. He quickly shot up causing his shoulders to click as they twisted. He quickly fell back down. Mentally, he scolded himself before he assessed his condition. Shoulders? He rolled his shoulders to check for any damage. No, all fine. Wrists? He moved his wrists and a pang off pain sprang from the damaged left wrist. Probably only sprained. Anywhere else? John shuffled a bit to check for any pain. Nothing. He sighed, good.

He then lifted his head to look at the other vampire, "I hate you," He then looked at the other people in the room, " He was going to tie me up and leave me to bloody calm down! I am calm!" It was clear that he was anything but calm.

Sherlock smiled in relief that John wasn't sleeping with that moron.

"It was for your own good so you didn't break anything! You're the worst I've ever seen you!" Alexander protested his innocence.

Sherlock's relief then turned to anger or to be more precise fury. He looked the vampire up and down. He may not be able to take him on physically but mentally he was sure to win with words.

John started to whimper as the energy coursing through him was burning in his cold veins. He needed to move, to burn the energy. There was no time for a battle of wit instead he decided just to chuck him out. Alexander wasn't the only one who could be possessive over John. He should know that.

"ALEXANDER! Get out of my home!" Sherlock roared. Mrs Hudson winced as the sound hurt her ears. Sherlock continued when the government man didn't move. "I said LEAVE! You will not return to help John unless he or I express our desire for you to do so. Now get OUT!" Sherlock pointed at the door. Anger was leaking from every pore.

As the vampire strode past him Sherlock sneered in a whisper, "Goodbye, Al."

The vampire cringed at the nickname which he knew the genius had used on purpose then quickly fled the property.

As soon as the detective heard the door slam he ran over to John who was whimpering and shaking as the energy ripped through him. He had fed less than five hours ago so his body was almost at peak energy levels. It took time for the body to absorb the blood. Within the next few hours, John would reach his most excitable and energetic. If he was still chained to the bed then the energy would tear him apart. Not physically but the pent up energy will start to burn in his cold veins until he almost couldn't take the pain. The sudden rushes of energy were because he hadn't fed in weeks before today. His body was now trying to take as much in as possible. Making the energy come in concentrated bursts.

Sherlock could see that John was already in pain. His face was screwed up and loud whimpers were leaving his mouth as if he had to control over his voice.

Sherlock grabbed hold of one of the handcuffs before identifying a problem with his plan. He whipped around to face his brother, panic decorating his face.

"Key!" Sherlock shouted because of the raising panic. His eyes darted around the room searching for the key but when he looked back down to the handcuffs he realised that there was no keyhole. He was about to question the design when John caught his attention.

John had stared gasping for air. Sherlock fell onto his knees beside his friend's bed. John tried to say something but a wave of pain caused his lips to stop moving briefly.

"Sher-Sher- loc-k," The pain was causing the vampire to jolt in his bed. Leaving his words broken. "It's too late to let -ugh!- let m-me out. Go and come back in a few h-hours. Ugh!"

Sherlock was about to say no when the vampire's fangs descended and his pupils enlarged.

"G-go! I won't be able to control myself." John finished the whispered sentence with a blood curdling scream as a deep burn bit inside of his veins.

Sherlock stood and backed away slowly. It was the second time today that Sherlock Holmes was scared of John Watson. The other two people in the room were confused by John's sudden pain and why Sherlock was leaving his secret love tied up in a room all alone going through hell.

Sherlock led the others down the stairs into a glitter covered living room. Mycroft elegantly sat himself down into John's chair. Mrs Hudson sighed and went into the cupboard pulling out a dustpan and began to brush some glitter into the pan when the overweight politician interrupted her cleaning.

"Don't worry about it, Mrs Hudson. I will send a cleaning team over tomorrow. You just go down stairs and make yourself a nice cup of tea and have a relax," It was blatantly obvious to the detective that his brother was trying to get rid of the older woman but she couldn't see past his political charm so left the flat. "Now, Sherlock. What's wrong with you?"

Sherlock was shocked at the question. A sharp scream was heard from upstairs causing the detective to wince.

"Me? Nothing is wrong with me. I think you meant what is wrong with my flat mate?"

"I know all too well what is wrong with John. He is obviously high but that's not why I'm still here. What I want to know is why you left your drug addled best and only friend home alone while high? Also, why aren't up there now? You know what it is like to have your system full of drugs so I suggest you help him." Mycroft sneered.

Sherlock was sat with his jaw slack and was staring at the man with the umbrella. Glitter was covering the tips of his trousers and some had somehow gotten in his hair. Good job, John. Sherlock decided that he wasn't going to answer that statement.

"How did the glitter make its way into the flat anyway?" Sherlock wondered out loud.

"John was looking at it." Mycroft sounded confused.

"What?" Sherlock was confused as well for all of 2 seconds before he remembered John's HD vision. "Oh"

"Just make sure that it doesn't happen again. It was like watching a child."

Mycroft rose to his feet, not expecting an answer from Sherlock. He made his way to the door but turned just before he went through.

"I think he needs you, Sherlock. Don't let him down." Mycroft turned brushed some glitter from his legs before treading down the stairs out onto Baker Street.

Sherlock gripped the arm of his chair so hard his knuckles became white. He could hear John screaming in the room above him. The scream was dark and deep as if it came from anyone but the small friendly doctor. Sherlock needed to get him out. He needs to open the handcuffs. How did Alexander do it? Alexander!

Where is the key?!-SH

What key?-Alexander

Don't be dense. I know you have it-SH

Oh, you mean the key to the handcuffs. Yeah, I don't have it. To be more precise, there isn't one. It's a pressure lock. The handcuffs will unlock automatically after John's blood pressure goes down. Happy? Toodles!-Alexander

Sherlock growled and gripped his phone tightly. He would hunt the vampire down and kill him but the genius knew he was no match for a vampire. He wondered if hunters existed? Someone to hunt the vamp down and get rid of him. He sat staring at the clock as the hands slowly made their way around the face.

Sherlock exhaled. He could feel his heart breaking as John screaming echoed throughout the flat. Sherlock stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs, looking up he wondered how long a few hours would be. Obviously three or more. The detective moaned and directed his eyes towards his watch. It had been an hour and six minutes. Surely long enough.

Sherlock ran up the stairs and placed his hand on the handle. His other hand he put higher up on the door with his palm stretched out on the cold wood. He rested his forehead against the painted door. He stood in this position silently for what felt like forever.

He gathered all his courage then proceeded to gently push the door open. The screams hadn't stopped but the genius was trying to block the sound out. He closed his eyes and stepped inside. The sound suddenly stopped and as a consequence Sherlock opened his eyes. The sight that greeted him made him freeze on the spot and a shiver to fall down his spine. John.

John was staring up at him from where he was tied to the bed. His pupils were wider than Sherlock had ever seen them before and his fangs were descended. John stared at the tall brunette for less than a second before launching himself at the detective. Sherlock would have run but his legs were turned to jelly. Luckily for the genius, John's wrists were still attached to the headboard which was now looking battered and dented. The doctor again tried to thrust himself at his flat mate, hissing and letting out a pained high pitch screech when he couldn't reach.

Sherlock shook himself out of position to slowly retreat backwards from the room. He closed the door behind him. He leant his back against it before sliding down to sit on the floor leaning against John's door. He really needs to learn to be patient and listen to advise on waiting times. The sociopath let his head fall back and rest against the door separating him from his doctor.

The hissing continued for about twenty-five minutes after Sherlock had left the room and after it receded the spine-chilling screaming started again.

Sherlock had to help John but how?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has something to tell John.

The screaming carried on into the early hours of the morning but Sherlock still sat guard outside his friend's room. He would not let anybody in, not that anyone was there to try and get in. As the time moved closer to 7am, the screaming got lesser and lesser until it was just heavy breathing and the occasional grunt of pain. Sherlock sat listening to his best friend's laboured breathing. He felt at a loss that he couldn't have ran in and saved John from this pain. He was accustomed to solving things.

Sherlock was hesitant but knew that he had to go back to see John soon. He rose from the floorboards and ruffled his raven curls, watching as glitter drifted down past his eyes and settled on the floor when he was previously sat. The detective turned and uncertainly pushed open John's door. He didn't hear any hissing from the doctor so took that as a good sign so strode into the room with more confidence. Maybe he has returned back to normal. Well, as normal as an ex-military vampire doctor can be, Sherlock considered.

His eyes darted to the bed, expecting to see a bound John, his eyes widened in horror when John wasn't there, leaving the bed empty. Where was he? Had Mycroft gotten to him? Maybe Alexander had come in the window and kidnapped Sherlock's soldier. Anger raced through Sherlock's body. He could feel the adrenaline rush through his veins. He would protect John no matter what it cost.

"Sherlock, calm down. I can hear your heartbeat from here." John mumbled quietly, a slight lisp playing in his voice. Of course, He could always hear people's heartbeat but Sherlock's was now thundering.

As soon as the taller man spotted the doctor he sprang over and knelt down beside the vampire. He was sat in the corner of the room with his hands in front of his face, shielding himself from the world. Or was he shielding the world from him?

"John, you're alright!" Sherlock smiled as he stated the obvious. He looked back over at the bed where the handcuffs lay smashed into bits.

John followed Sherlock's gaze so decided to explain, "They weren't quite ready. With the pressure lock and all, I mean. I got slightly frustrated," John let his head fall into his hands again "I'm a monster. They can't even hold me with Vampire proof handcuffs. Two pairs as well."

The ex-army doctor was appalled by himself. I am such a monster. How could I try to get Sherlock? He has been caring for me. The doctor tried to shuffle himself away from the sociopath. He had to keep the detective safe from him and his monstrous tendencies. Keeping his hands over his face he mumbled something.

Sherlock raised a confused eyebrow. "What was that, John?"

"I said, go away Sherlock. I'm a monster. Run now while you still can."

"Why would you be a monster?" Sherlock asked as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"I tried to get you and kill..." His voice trailed off. He kept his hands over his face. He was shaking his head in his palms.

"You're not a monster, John. You can't help what you did back there. Don't beat yourself up; it's not your fault." Sherlock soothed his friend.

The doctor slowly raised his head from his hands and looked uncertainty at the genius.

"You can't tell me that you don't mind that I am like this, Sherlock. Just…" John started but didn't know how to carry on. "Just-just tell me to go. You don't normally worry about feelings but just know you don't have to spare mine. Just say what you are thinking." John cast his gaze down to his feet. Dreading what was coming. He closed his eyes tightly and braced himself for a chucking out.

"John," Sherlock sighed, placing a warm hand in John's cold one and squeezing gently. John could hear Sherlock's heart pounding in his chest. At the mention of his name the doctor looked up at the detective. "I don't care that you are a vampire. I don't care you just tried to rip my throat out."

John winced at the words that were spoken so lightly by the brunette, who smiled at John's expression of confusion and apprehension.

"You know that I lack in the whole emotion side of things so I don't quite understand fully but here is how I see it. I don't care that you are a vampire because that is what makes you, you. I don't care that you tried to kill me because I would be more than happy to die for you. I also know that you wouldn't hurt me when you are in control; you are so kind and caring. I don't understand what is happening to me but what I do know is that I sat outside that door for the last four and a half hours because I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to take away your pain and if the only way to do that is to bring it on myself then so be it. I wanted to hold your hand as you screamed and withered in pain. I wanted to be there for you, John. Nobody else mattered. There was you and you were in pain. It almost killed me that I couldn't help you. I've never felt this way for anyone before you, John. When Alexander was with you and I thought you were... well, I couldn't take it. I could feel myself starting to crumble without you. I hate being separated even when it is only for a few hours while you take a shift in the hospital or go to the shops. I can't stand it," Sherlock stopped to breathe and collect his thoughts. Oh God, I've gone too far John is going to hate me after this. "John, from what I can deduce about the situation... What I mean is... John. I think I'm in love with you."

Sherlock who had previously been looking down at their hands looked up into John's eyes. His beautiful eyes that showed every emotion he was feeling. They showed what was happening on the inside. In his soul.

The two men were kneeling and sat in silence for what felt like forever before the vampire had removed the lump from his throat.

"Sherlock," John managed to gasp out.

Sherlock didn't reply but continued to look into John's eyes waiting for an answer. A yes or no. Did he love Sherlock? Sherlock waited for what felt like a lifetime. The eyes of his love were filled with emotion. Sherlock cursed, why hasn't he spent more time longer studying the different emotions.

Please john, tell me what you are thinking. Please, tell me that you feel this as well for I don't know what I will do if you don't, Sherlock silently cried.

John opened his mouth to speak but found that no words would leave his dry throat and pass his frozen lips.

"John?" Sherlock begged the doctor. He needed an answer, any answer. Just something to tell him yes or no. A nod of the head will suffice at this point.

Still the short blond sat frozen. Sherlock loved him. The words he had been longing to hear for as long as he had known this incredible man.

Sherlock loves me!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John visits Mrs Hudson to apologise for all the screaming.

Sherlock sighed and began to pull away. He could physically feel his heart breaking. He had laid his heart out on a platter for John, only for him to disregard it. He could feel his heart shattering inside of him. His first and only love.

The detective was starting to stand up when a strong cold hand caught his elbow ceasing any movement from the lanky genius. Sherlock turned his head to face John, his eyes watering but not yet crying. He wouldn't cry in front of John. He wouldn't show his pain. His weakness.

Must you taunt me more? Can't you see my heart is broken? Just leave me be.

John looked up at his sociopath and a small smile broke onto his face. He leant forward and pressed his cold lips against Sherlock's warm ones. Their lips fitted together like a puzzle piece, like it was meant to be. John had waited months and months for this moment and it was everything he had ever fantasised about. The sensation danced on his vampire's sensitive lips causing shivers to cascade down his spine. The heat from Sherlock's mouth caused John's own mouth to warm up and almost feel alive.

Sherlock was timid from lack of experience but John gently led the way until Sherlock felt more confident. They stayed where they were kissing until the detective had to break apart to breathe.

They knelt opposite each other with the human breathless and panting. It took a few minutes before he had regained his breath. John rose from his kneeling position before leaning down and kissing Sherlock quickly but tenderly and pulling him up.

"I'm starving." John muttered still flushed from their previous French kissing.

"I didn't think you ate any more." Sherlock raised an eyebrow down at John as they padded down the stairs.

"I don't... I think I said that out of habit, actually." The doctor told Sherlock, who rolled his eyes.

The detective threw himself down onto the sofa and sprawled out on it. Closing his eyes and placing his hands under his chin in a prayer position. He had much to think about. The heart which was beating at a steady pace in his chest was fixed and the previous discomfort had gone. No more heartbreak.

John watched the detective enter his mind palace before looking up at the clock and sighing. It had to be a few days since my sociopath last ate. He smiled when he called Sherlock his. At least he now knew that the feeling was mutual.

The ex-army doctor pushed himself up from his chair, rubbing his wrists. The handcuffs hadn't done any permanent damage but they still hurt and the sprain had mended itself within the first half an hour of excruciating pain. He took himself into the kitchen where he started to put together a sandwich. Just because I don't have to eat is no excuse for him not to!

John carried the plate of cheese sandwiches through to the living area and placed it on Sherlock's stomach. The detective didn't move. He was too absorbed in his thinking. I'll leave it there; Where he will find it.

The short man looked about for something to do but apart from the glitter (which he felt really bad about) he had nothing that needed doing. He decided that he would go downstairs until Sherlock was done thinking. He should probably apologise to Mrs Hudson for not letting her in.

As he left through the door he looked back at his consulting detective and sighed. Things were going to be okay. I just have to keep Sherlock Holmes safe from all those nasty criminals and, despite what Sherlock says, the monster that is me.

John got to the bottom of the stairs and knocked on Mrs Hudson's door. His vampire good hearing, allowed John to hear the old woman shuffling towards the door. The door was opened and as soon as it had cracked open Mrs Hudson had leapt onto him. Encasing him in an iron grip hug. John attempted to pull away but the old woman refused to release one of her boys. Everyone thought he didn't like to be touched as a result of flashbacks but it was his fear of people touching his sensitive skin.

Mrs Hudson suddenly pulled away like she had just noticed something. Her face twisted into a frown and, before John realised what was happening, the elderly woman had a warm palm on his forehead. He froze waiting for her verdict.

"John! Are you okay? You're freezing cold!" Mrs Hudson hurried him into her flat and pushed him towards her living room. In which he took a seat.

"I'm fine, Mrs Hudson. Just a side effect of being drugged. I just came down to apologise for not letting you in... and the screaming." Mrs Hudson looked over at John with an unconvinced look plastered across her face. Clearly, she didn't believe the side effect story. If she had suspected anything, she didn't mention it instead just carried on.

"I heard you screaming last night, dear. What was wrong?" The old woman sat down next to John and placed her hand on John's. He jumped at the unexpected contact but she still held on. Even though he was probably making her hand cold. She looked genuinely concerned and in that second he wanted to tell her everything about being a vampire, about Sherlock and about Alexander. He wanted to but he couldn't. She was kind and understanding but to tell someone their tenant is a blood sucking monster would be testing anyone, no matter how kind and caring they usually were.

"No need to worry about it. That was just another side effect, hallucinations. I imagined Alexander clawing at my face and neck for almost five and a half hours. No need to worry though because, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine." He tried to calm her panicked expression at the thought of John going through that. Good enough lie, he thought to himself.

"Here," She handed him a cup of tea which had previously been sat on a tray on the coffee table. "You must be exhausted! You can sleep down here so Sherlock doesn't wake you up," John began to refuse. He didn't want to impose on the old woman but he really didn't want to pretend to be asleep for hours. The woman would have none of it and pushed him down till he was in a full lying position and pulled a knitted blanket over the soldier. "I insist. Have a sleep John. You were up all night."

With that final comment she backed out of the room and into her kitchen where she started to bake quietly. John breathed out deeply. It's not the whole looking asleep thing that was the problem as he had over 100 years experience in that area. It wasn't that. No, it was the being utterly and completely bored for 2 hours minimum while he 'slept'.

He began to ponder his existence. Contrary to popular belief vampires could and did die. It was like a human life but vampires age much slower. John would say he is 39 if a human asked but he actually has been on this earth for 195 years. He was actually quite a young vampire. A vampire could live for 600 years maximum and that really was too long, in John's opinion, but most die naturally around the 550 mark. They just fall asleep and then just stop. Their bodies will start to decompose very quickly because of their overly long life. He thought about how long a life should be, how old 'old' is, how young is 'young' and anything to do with age.

John got bored of the topic of age and decided to turn to something else. The kiss with Sherlock sprang to his mind and he could immediately feel himself blushing. At this rate it will be obvious that he is awake. John started to think about other things when he heard Mrs Hudson come in the doorway to check on him. She had been doing this frequently and it was starting to annoy the vampire. After a few minutes, the woman left the room and went back to her cooking. John cracked open an eye and peeped up at the clock. Almost an hour. Ahhh! A reasonable nap would be at least two hours since he'd not slept last night. John sighed internally and decided he would listen to Mrs Hudson. She was humming a happy tune while rolling out, what John guessed was, some sort of pastry.

Angry stomping on the stairs alerted John that Sherlock may have just realised he was gone. John prayed that the tall man would come to save him. He celebrated on the inside when he heard a furious knocking on the door. John listened as Mrs Hudson hurried over to stop the loud noises. She didn't want John to wake up. As she opened the door a lofty sociopath strode in.

"Where's John?" The tall man demanded loudly. Mrs Hudson attempted to 'shhh' him.

"He's sleeping. He didn't get any rest last night so I suggested that he rested here."

"... and he is here now? Asleep?" John could hear the raised eyebrow and doubt in his voice.

"Yes, in the lounge." The lady replied in hushed tones.

John listened as he heard Sherlock stride into the room and crouch down beside him. He had to fight any sudden desires to twitch and smile. John kept his breathing deep and relaxed but he realised that Sherlock knew about the whole sleeping issue.

"Convincing, very convincing." The detective mumbled under his breath so only John could hear.

"What was that, dear?" Mrs Hudson questioned.

Sherlock rapidly searched his mind palace for an excuse. What to say? What to say?

"I said, we should wake him up or he will complain about not sleeping tonight." Sherlock improvised.

"Oh! I didn't think about that! Good idea. I will leave you to it." Regardless of what she said she only edged around the doorway a little. Giving the illusion of privacy. It was clear she was still there but Sherlock chose to ignore that in favour of waking a 'sleeping' John.

The detective leaned forward and gently pressed his warm lips against John's. He may have been inexperienced but he still managed to make the kiss passionate but tender at the same time.

Mrs Hudson nearly had a heart attack when she saw her boys kiss and she backed away from the door grinning and giggling to herself. She knew it!

John's eyelids fluttered open and a smile spread across his face. It was the best 'waking up' ever, "Thank God," He mumbled into Sherlock's lips. "My saviour."

Sherlock smiled back down at the doctor before standing up and looking at John.

"Feeling better after your nap?" The detective asked smirking.

"Yes, Indeed." The blond vampire replied seriously but with a smile creeping onto the corners of his mouth.

John reached up on his tip toes to kiss the detective before leading him up to their flat and after a few hours of lazy kissing they made their way to Sherlock's room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft visits again much to John's disappointment.

It was a few hours after John and Sherlock had become lovers and the stubborn detective was asleep in John's arms, snoring lightly. The doctor felt a little guilty about his cold skin giving Sherlock goose bumps but the brunette had demanded that John was to stay with him while he slept. Who was John to deny the perfect genius what he wanted? John smiled and brushed a dark curl out of the detective's eyes.

He wasn't bored, gazing down at his beautiful consulting detective was enough to entertain him. He stayed like that for a few hours before he really did start to get bored though. Sherlock was adorable while he slept but it gets slightly repetitive watching Sherlock do nothing but sleep.

John pulled away and stood while looking down at the sleeping man. He hauled the blankets up tight around Sherlock's body trying to make up for the cold he had made him suffer through. John pulled his jeans on over his boxers and decided against a jumper. He decided that nobody would mind his naked chest. Sherlock certainly wouldn't.

The vampire padded through to the kitchen and started to boil the kettle. He could feel himself cooling down now that he had left Sherlock's warmth behind. He looked over at the boiling kettle before quickly pulling it off the stove. What am I doing? He had forgotten again that he didn't have to pretend any more. He potted around the flat for an hour or so before deciding that anyone could walk in at this time and he should look respectful in case it was Mrs Hudson.

John went up to his room and slipped on his favourite oatmeal coloured jumper. On his way back down he heard the front door click shut. His senses were suddenly on full alert. I must protect Sherlock. His sprang down the stairs silently. His vampire tread on the floor being so soft that you couldn't hear it. He entered the room to see Mycroft staring out of the window onto the street below. The doctor sat down in his armchair without making a noise and waited the two minutes before Mycroft turned.

"John!" Mycroft jumped, dropping his umbrella, when he spotted the vampire. John continued to stare at the politician.

"I didn't hear you come down." The elder Holmes raised his eyebrow in such a Holmesian way.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Blandly, John replied. "Your brother is asleep. You will have to come back later."

"I am not here to see my baby brother. I am here to see you." Mycroft had a smirk plastered across his arrogant face. Why can't I punch him? Oh, that's right, British government and all that. Gracefully, the politician lowered himself down into Sherlock's chair opposite John.

"Me? What do you need from me?" John was starting to panic. What could Mycroft want?

"I need to speak with you regarding your relationship with my brother. I have been reliably informed that it is no longer purely platonic?" Mycroft made the obvious statement sound like a question. The arrogant sod clearly knew the answer.

John really didn't want to have this conversation with anyone, let alone Mycroft. Someone please stab a stake through my still cold heart. Please! Nothing happened, John rolled his eyes and sighed.

"If this is the 'big brother' chat then there is no need to worry. You full well know that I would happily sacrifice myself for your brother. No need to worry about the whole you hurt him, I hurt you charade."

Mycroft looked down at John sceptically before answering.

"Yes John. You also know how fragile Sherlock can be … emotionally, mostly because he is inexperienced. If I hear you are taking advantage of that inexperience. You will not live to tell the tale of the day you broke the heart of Sherlock Holmes." The snarl that passed Mycroft's lips was intimidating and the vampire felt backed into a corner.

John wanted to shiver but didn't want to show weakness in front of the man with the stone heart. John decided to stand up for himself. He wasn't going to take this lying down, not again. He wasn't going to take more of this.

"People have tried to kill me before, Mycroft. It isn't easy." The words fell darkly from John's lips. It was the first time the elder Holmes had heard such a threatening tone to sound from the small doctor.

Mycroft stared at John for a few seconds before replying calmly, "Yes, but they were not me."

The man in the well-kept suit stood elegantly then turned and looked down and the vampire.

"I need to speak with you in detail regarding your relationship with my brother." Mycroft looked slightly disgusted at John and what he may or may not have done with Sherlock earlier that morning. The politician walked towards the door.

"I need you to come with me. It is cold outside so I would suggest bringing a coat but I don't think you need it, do you doctor?"

The doctor rose from his seat before proceeding to follow Mycroft out of the flat into the chilly morning air. He could tell it was cold because Mycroft had a thick black coat over his suit and the ex-military man could see the breath as it left Mycroft's mouth. John felt fine himself. Not warm, not cold. Just as usual apart from when he was entwined with Sherlock. This morning he could feel the warmth radiation off the taller man and he was lapping it up. Relishing in the rare opportunity to feel heat on his frozen skin.

John let out a deep breath while reminiscing. Unlike the elder Holmes, John's breath did not disperse into a cloud of white fog instead his already cold breath just mingled with the normal freezing air as if it was a summers day. No display of white. No fog. Nothing. John was slightly disappointed that he couldn't create this normal everyday people thing. He grunted in frustration and the overweight man raised an eyebrow over at John.

Within seconds a dark town car had turned up and Sherlock's brother led the way into the vehicle. John hesitated but soon followed the suited man into the car.

As they pulled away John took one last glance up at 221 Baker Street. He had a strange feeling he wouldn't be returning here for a while… if ever.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock discovers that John is missing.

Sherlock was drifting between sleep and awake. Unconsciousness still playing in his thoughts making them illogical. He swung his arm out to feel for his blogger, and newly found lover, only to find an empty space beside him. The detective's eyes shot open and he threw himself up into a sitting position, sending blankets flying across the bed. His head swung round to look for the vampire. He probably got bored and got up. No need to panic, he told himself. The more in control side of his brain was taking charge making him go into full deduction mode. He shook his head, removing the last traces of sleep.

Sherlock placed his hand down on the side of the bed where John had previously been. Cold... must have been a while then... one minute, that makes no sense John is always cold. Sherlock quickly retracted his arm slightly embarrassed that he had made that mistake. His emotions were clouding his logical brain.

Sherlock leapt out of the bed and froze listening to hear whether John was in the lounge. The flat was eerily silent and Sherlock could hear his pulse thundering in his ears. John! Where are you? He had promised to stay with me.

Sherlock pulled on some pyjama bottoms over his boxers and quickly made his way into the living room. His eyes took in everything of importance. They darted around cataloguing small movements in where books were positioned, where paper lay in new piles and the area was generally tidier.

It was clear to the detective that John had gotten up during the night and had nothing to do so cleaned up. John always cleaned when he was bored. The glitter had been removed so there would have been little left for the soldier to do. Sherlock turned to see the vampire's coat still on the hook despite him being absent. Not that it made any difference. Although, John always tried to seem normal and he had the practice down to a T. He would have taken his coat with him on such a cold morning.

There was no sign of a struggle so kidnapping or abduction seemed out of the question. John wouldn't just let himself get taken away. He led the way into the kitchen and laid a hand on the kettle. It was stone cold. Sherlock scolded himself again. John didn't need to drink, his body could hold liquid from one feed to the next.

The sociopath sighed. John being a vampire was making it more difficult than it should be. He was pacing the living room floor trying to come up with a plan of action when his foot landed on an unexpected item. The detective looked down and his nose screwed up in disgust before suddenly changing to horror.

The tall man raced into his bedroom and chucked on his clothes that lay strewn upon the floor. He ignored the creases and wrinkles in the clothes which would have usually frustrated him. He was too focused for distraction.

He ran out his room, grabbed his coat and scarf, laced it around his neck, before sprinting out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time and spun around at the bottom before knocking violently on Mrs Hudson's door. He didn't care what time it was. He knocked again and only stopped when he finally heard her shuffling towards the door.

Come on! Come on! Sherlock was bouncing on the spot with impatience steaming off him. Sherlock started talking before she had even got the door open fully.

"Have you seen John at all this morning?" He didn't give the old woman chance to reply before asking the next question."Mycroft? Have you seen Mycroft at all this morning?"

It was clear that she hadn't see either of them so the detective turned to leave but the woman, who was strong for her age, grabbed onto his arm.

"Why? Is he in trouble?" Sherlock nodded rapidly in an attempt to get the conversation over as quickly as possible."I'm surprised you're up at this time seeing that you didn't get to sleep until late." The lady raised a suggestive eyebrow at him; The sociopath blushed slightly at the thought of Mrs Hudson hearing what he and John had been doing the night before. "Anyway, what's wrong with John?"

"He's gone missing!" Sherlock almost shouted at the older woman.

"He is a grown man, Sherlock. He is allowed to come and go as he pleases." Mrs Hudson spoke to the agitated man with an air of sympathy. Why she did so Sherlock didn't know.

"He promised he wouldn't leave me! Mycroft has him!" Sherlock called back over his shoulder after he had extracted himself from her grip and was halfway out of the front door. "And I'm going to get him back!"

Mrs Hudson sighed, shaking her head slowly. Her boys are always getting into trouble. She slowly turned and closed the door. I will keep and look out for John in case he returns, she decided.

As Sherlock left 221 Baker Street, he pulled out his phone and dialled a number he truly hated.

He left Baker Street, leaving behind a familiar black umbrella which was lying on the living room floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone watches supernatural: I also write many Supernatural themed AUs.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock questions mycroft.

The detective grunted in frustration when his brother didn't answer his phone. How dare he steal John then ignore ME? Sherlock decided that the best plan of action was to march straight up to his brother's office and demand the release of his new lover.

The tall man sprinted through the traffic on the footpaths. He weaved his way past businessmen and women in suits and past tourists on shopping trips. Within a few minutes he had made it to his overweight brother's Whitehall office. He stormed towards the building, threw the doors open and strode towards the office which was reserved for Mycroft. The security staff was at a loss. They had seen Sherlock many times before, usually getting told off by his brother, so we're uncertain whether they should apprehend the fuming brunette. Despite their uncertainty, the well-built men in suits followed close behind Sherlock. Enough so they didn't hinder his step but close enough so that of he did act, they could be on him in seconds.

The detective tried to ignore the men behind him instead he focused on thinking about what he would say to his fat, arrogant, nosy, fat, annoying, fat brother. The sociopath walked straight passed the lift which made his followers raise their eyebrows. He instead took the stairs. He raced up the stairs at such speed that the elevator would have taken twice as long. The men behind him struggled to keep up with the outraged detective as they climbed the stairs.

Sherlock strode towards Mycroft's office ignoring his brother's PA as she attempted the impossible mission of stopping an angry Sherlock. She walked beside him rambling about an important meeting or something. Sherlock wasn't quite listening.

The tall brunette stormed onwards undeterred by her efforts. He didn't even hesitate when reaching the dark mahogany doors. He simply carried on and threw the doors open barely even slowing his pace. He flew into the room and the annoying PA followed him in, still complaining about something to do with important MPs and multinational government deals.

As Sherlock marched into the room the deep conversation that was already going on suddenly stopped and three official looking people turned in their seats to stare at the newly arrived man. The three visitors looked shocked at the sudden disturbance whereas Mycroft just looked generally pissed off with the tall man. Sherlock stopped stalking forward when he reached the large desk. He threw his fists down onto the shiny surface causing the guests to wince as the loud sound assaulted their ears. The security personnel stood a meter or so behind the detective ready to take him out if the need arises. Mycroft rose from his seat to stare at his brother.

"Sherlock! What have I told you about just showing up and walking in! I am in the-!" Mycroft started to scold his little brother.

"What have you done with John?!" Sherlock interrupted his elder brother darkly. Sherlock was physically shaking with anger. How dare Mycroft steal my blogger! He will pay for this, he seethed.

"John? I've done nothing with John. Why would you think I've done something to John?" Mycroft asked slightly insulted by the accusation.

"One: you always have something to do with everything. Two: I found your umbrella in the living room! You can't deny you were there this morning, Mycroft. You cannot deny that you have John."

"You are right, Sherlock. I was there this morning and I did see John but, contrary to what you are saying, I do not have John right now." Mycroft looked pretty pleased with himself.

Sherlock looked confused for a second before looking his brother straight in the eye.

"If you don't have him then who does?" The last few word sounded slightly whiney as they left the sociopath's mouth.

"I dropped him off outside your flat this morning after taking him out for a small chat while you were still asleep." As his brother mocked him, Sherlock cursed his body's need to sleep. It explains why John left me.

"Who could have him?!" The detective was getting frustrated with his lack of data. He was starting to get really frustrated again so grabbed the closest item to him, which happened to be a glass of water. He launched the cup towards the wall next to a bookcase. The cup shattered on impact.

The three visitors, who had been watching the scene before them with open mouths, turned to watch as the water slowly dribbled down the wall. Mycroft seemed less surprised by his brother's actions.

"Sherlock! You will stop this straight away," Mycroft was close to shouting as he spoke to his brother. "I will finish my meeting then I will assist you in finding John."

Sherlock seemed satisfied with the outcome so moved over to the bookshelf pulled out a book and sat on the floor leaning against the wall reading it. Even though he had barely opened the cover he looked tremendously bored. Mycroft sighed but tried to continue where he left off.

The other government officials looked shocked at this sudden change in moods from the man but Mycroft could see his brother's leg jerking slightly. It was a method of burning nervous energy that Sherlock had picked up as a child. Mycroft frowned, Sherlock must be seriously worried about John. It was clear to the politician that Sherlock was trying to control the worry and panic that was coursing through his system.

Mycroft brought the meeting to a hurried close by agreeing to sort out documents and to sign reports. His brother was still sat on the floor flicking through his book.

The politician said a hurried farewell before turning to his brother. The younger man stood up as his brother approached.

"I just don't understand. If you don't have John then who does?" Mycroft could hear the panic in the detective's voice even though it was obvious he was trying hard to contain it.

"Let's keep this logical, baby brother. Who would want John and why?" Mycroft was trying to keep everything clear and logical. He could see his brother wouldn't be much use here.

"Well, it pretty obvious why but who is a bit more difficult." Sherlock nodded as if he was agreeing with himself.

Mycroft frowned. His face twisted into a picture of confusion. "What do you mean? Why was John taken?"

"Don't play dense, Mycroft. I know that you know. I mean, why else would John go out without his coat?" Sherlock was sure his brother was bluffing.

"I'm sure I don't understand what mean. I made a slightly sarcastic comment this morning about John's jumper being so thick that he wouldn't need a coat and as a result he braved the weather as he was but apart from that..." His voice trailed off.

"So… You don't know?! You can't be serious! Even with all the cameras?"

"Well, of course I know, Sherlock. It's quite obvious even to those who lack in CCTV. That's what I spoke to John about this morning." Mycroft spoke as if he was speaking to a halfwit.

Sherlock was now as confused as Mycroft had previously been. "But... If you know that then you should know why he was taken. It's not hard to work out."

"Please! Sherlock you think too highly about yourself. Do you really believe that just because you and John have started sleeping together that the whole criminal underworld will try to kidnap him?"

The sociopath's head snapped up, "What?!" Sherlock was past confused now. He was completely bewildered. "So you aren't talking about John being a vampire?"

Mycroft's eyebrow rose in disbelief and he lost his well-known composer "What?!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for John is on.

Sherlock's face paled as he suddenly realised that he had told his best friend's biggest secret to the person that was most likely to abuse that knowledge.

Sherlock swallowed, his throat suddenly drier then the Sahara desert. Mycroft eyed his brother suspiciously. If this is some kind of joke then it was tremendously convincing.

"Sherlock? What do you mean?" Mycroft was confused and he wasn't trying to hide that. Vampires don't exist. What is he on about? God no! If he has started doing drugs again I will kill him. Calm down. We don't have any proof of drug use … yet.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but quickly snapped it shut. He looked a lot like goldfish, stood there opening and closing his mouth looking for the right words to say. The detective looked down at his shoes.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice held a slightly warning tone. "I can help if you tell me what's going on ... Tell me everything." The politician made his way back around and sat at his desk. He gestured for the other man to sit opposite him. The elder Holmes folded his hands under his chin with a look of understanding on his face. If it's drugs again he'd be best to tell me now or face the consequences, he mused.

Sherlock really didn't want to tell his brother about John so he kept it as simple as possible, leaving out details of supernatural speed and strength. Mycroft would just want to experiment on him or use him as a weapon of mass destruction. He did tell him about why John was acting strange a few days before while he was on his blood high. Mycroft looked more amazed with every word the detective said. Although, the suspicion was still there.

"So Alexander Spruce?" The politician didn't bother forming the whole sentence. He knew his brother understood what he meant.

Sherlock did understand and nodded in confirmation.

Mycroft was shocked by this new information. The rude, arrogant but bloody good-looking politician (or at least that is what Mycroft thinks he is. Why else would he work in parliament?) he had been investigating over the last few months was actually a vampire. He really didn't know what to think. Lies. All lies, his logical brain was screaming at him.

"Okay so who knows about John's ... situation?" Mycroft enquired hoping to find a fault in Sherlock's vampire story.

"You and I. That's the only humans." Despite what his brother was saying Mycroft still doubted that his brother's new lover was a bloodthirsty monster. They didn't exist. Did they?

"So who could possibly want John?" Logically, Mycroft was sorting through questions and facts. He didn't know much about vampires even then all he did know was from myths and legends.

"I fear it could possibly be a vampire. If any it would be Alexander and the rest of the head vampires … or I think there are head vampires … a bit like a government, I believe." As he was speaking the detective rose from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Mycroft rose as well, following his brother out of his office.

"Home, obviously. If you would help find John I will be eternally grateful. I need to contact Lestrade." The younger Holmes didn't want Mycroft's help but he was ever so powerful and had a lot of people at his disposal.

The overweight man grabbed hold of Sherlock's forearm. "You're going to tell Greg?"

"Yes, why not?"

"He might, for lack of a better term, freak out."

Sherlock pondered this for a fraction of a second before dismissing the idea with a wave of his elegant hand, "He'll be fine!"

On that note, the man with bouncing curls strode away with his coat tails flying in his wake. Mycroft sighed, shaking his head.

He sat down in his chair again, now alone in his office. He stared at his phone of a few seconds before picking it up, "Anthea? Get me surveillance, cancel the rest of today's meetings and reschedule them," Mycroft paused for a second before continuing " ... Also, get the laboratories prepared I may have a test subject coming in for them." He couldn't have a dangerous monster prowling the streets of London now, could he?

Anthea was originally slightly baffled that her work addict boss was cancelling all his appointments for the day but it all became clearer as a flustered Sherlock hurried past her in the corridor. She knew Mycroft would do anything for his 'baby brother', as he often called him.

She returned swiftly to her desk and immediately picked up the receiver on her phone.

"Is this Mr Simon Morris in surveillance?" She paused as the person on the other end of the line confirmed his identity.

"Good morning, Mr Holmes requires a meeting with you ... Yes, as soon as possible. He is waiting." The PA made a small hum of satisfaction as one job was complete to a high standard.

Without even putting down the phone she dialled a different number. One she very rarely had to ring.

"Hello is this Governwork's Laboratories? … Good. Mr Holmes would like you to be ready. He may have something coming in for you."

She wondered what it could be that Mr Holmes was referring to.

The man himself then came across the speaker again, "Oh and Anthea? Send someone in to clean up that broken glass."

\--

Sherlock made it back to the flat in good time but Lestrade was already stood outside waiting for him, looking slightly disgruntled.

"What do you want, Sherlock? Do you realise this is my day off?"

The consulting detective didn't bother answering such trivial questions and make his way up the stairs leaving the door wide open for Lestrade to follow.

The tall man was barely looking where he was going so almost missed the small piece of card which was stuck to the door. The man ripped it off and read the words that were written in curly, deep red writing. Sherlock's brain had already started to deduce information about the sender. They had obviously learnt to write in the Victorian era or possibly earlier, Edwardian maybe. The smooth curls in the writing gave this away immediately.

_**John left me. Now he must leave you. Forever - Alexander** _

Okay... That was one of the most direct notes Sherlock had ever read. Normally, they wanted the detective to have to work it out but it was pretty obvious. Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a text to his brother.

_Alexander has him. Left a note. - SH_

The reply was almost instant.

_I am currently working on the surveillance but as you know Mr Spruce has his ways of interfering with my systems. - MH_

Sherlock cursed the vampires hacking skills which he had previously enjoyed. He would prefer to have Mycroft watching them then there to be no 'them'.

Lestrade followed Sherlock into the flat. He was puzzled. He hadn't yet been informed on why he was needed. The freelance detective was gripping the expensive card fiercely. He was muttering to himself about stupid government officials and good-looking suited vampires.

Sherlock suddenly turned and faced the detective inspector.

"John has been taken." Sherlock rapidly explained to the other man.

"What do you mean 'taken'? How was he taken?" Lestrade was trying to keep up mentally with the detective, not that it was any different from usual.

"Lestrade. Shut up. Are you are being more incompetent on purpose? He was abducted!"

Sherlock stared at the paper for a few seconds before rushing over to his microscope. He sniffed the note before jamming it in place.

John was abducted? By who? When? Where? Why? Lestrade wanted to ask all of the questions but he knew that Sherlock wouldn't appreciate the noise. Who cares about Sherlock's silence? I want to get my friend back.

The detective inspector pulled out a small note pad, always ready for clues, facts and figures. "Where did you see him last?"

The taller man continued peering into the microscope and muttered something while turning a shade of red.

"What?"

Sherlock made a big show of standing up and leading the DI through to his bedroom like the man was stupid. The dark haired man tried to contain his blush as he gestured towards the large messy bed. Lestrade's expression twisted into confusion and looked at a loss before suddenly realising the complications of Sherlock last seeing his friend in his bed and turning to horror.

He pointed at the bed and then back at Sherlock with his mouth opening and closing searching for words. He had momentarily forgotten about his missing friend to overwhelmed by this new revelation. The sociopath nodded as the red blush became fiercer on the man's neck and cheeks. The ebony haired man turned and left his bedroom. Lestrade followed him out like some sort of puppy. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Sherlock strode back towards the microscope and after barely a second of looking through it turned to face Greg.

"Do you still have the DNA samples from the last victim of the vampire hoax?" Sherlock asked the police officer.

"Well, yes. It's back at the Yard. We haven't got round to doing anything with it yet. What do you need it for?"

Sherlock grinned up at the policeman before jumping up and yelling, "I'm gonna catch myself a vampire!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock uses science

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The DNA fingerprinting in this isn't 100% accurate. Sorry to science fans.

Sherlock dashed towards the door and started to sprint down the stairs, taking two at a time, when a call from inside the flat stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder at the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade appeared in the doorway to the flat, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Go to the Yard, pick up the samples then come straight to Barts. I will be in the lab waiting." The sociopath ran out of the front door with the piece of card flapping in the wind. The DI stood in the doorway to the flat for a minute trying to collect his thoughts before going back in and picking his coat up off the arm of John's chair. On the way out his eyes darted over to Sherlock's room and a shiver ran down his back as he thought of what his friends had been doing in there the night before.

Lestrade made his way back down the stairs but froze at the bottom. Did Sherlock say he was going to catch a vampire? No, I must of heard wrong. That, or this vampire hoax case has gotten to his head. The police officer chuckled slightly at the thought of Sherlock going even madder. He only had John to- John! The man suddenly regained all seriousness as he remembered his missing friend.

The detective groaned as he pulled up outside the New Scotland Yard; it was his day off! His heaved himself out of the vehicle and up the steps. He tried to ignore everyone who called out to him or asked him why he was there. In other words, he took a leaf out of Sherlock's book. He made a beeline straight toward the lab and where they kept the samples. He closed his eyes trying to remember whether Anderson was in or not. Please no. Please no. Please no.

He cursed as he pushed open the lab door to see Anderson lying on the floor with a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. Lestrade wasn't too shocked by the scene. He had been working with Sherlock for too long to be shocked by any kind of experiment or whatever the forensic officer could come up with.

Lestrade just carried on walking forward and stepped silently over the man as if he sees something like this every day. He carried on to the samples cupboard and looked for the correct tube or tub or whatever with the correct label. He hoped that Anderson hadn't created a new labelling system again. Last time he did that he forgot to tell anyone so nobody could find anything.

Idiot, Lestrade mentally told Anderson.

The forensic officer was now sat up on the floor and looking at the DI curiously. Don't talk to me. Please don't talk to me. I am begging. Please don'-

"What are you doing in today? I thought it was you day off." As he spoke the thermometer fell out of his mouth and hit the floor. The man looked down at it then blew on the end before placing it back in his mouth. Lestrade's skin crawled as he thought of all the people who had walked through this area. Hell, they often dealt with poisons in here and Anderson thought that blowing on it would kill all the germs. I thought he was a scientist.

In response to the man's question the DI only had to grumble one word, "Sherlock."

The forensic officer started to mumble something about psychopathic freaks and being an arrogant bastard but Lestrade blocked him out. He shouldn't have to deal with him on his day off!

He found the sample he was looking for before turning and leaving. Glad to bid farewell to the bacteria infested floor and the idiot who wouldn't think twice before almost licking it.

As he exited the front automatic doors and out into the cool crisp air, Greg breathed a deep sigh of relief. Now to save my friend. Lestrade hurried forward to his car and sped over to Bart's hospital.

The DI jumped out of his beat up old car and rushed towards the hospital. As he walked through the doors the smell of antibacterial sprays and general cleanliness made the police officer feel sick. He made his way down to the lab. Outside the door he took a deep breath, preparing himself for the hurricane that was Sherlock Holmes, before pushing open the laboratory door.

He walked a few steps forward and a deep frown decorated his features. He couldn't see the young consulting detective anywhere in the room. Lestrade looked all around him to make sure nobody was watching before crouching down to see if the detective was lying on the floor. You never know.

He realised that he was being as stupid as Anderson so stood up straight again. The door behind him suddenly squeaked as it swung open behind it was a frazzled Sherlock with a bag of blood sticking out of his pocket.

The tall man rushed past the detective inspector until he was about a meter ahead of him before he turned on his heel and ripped the evidence bag out of Greg's hand. Greg just stared at his friend in confusion.

Sherlock was pulling the blood out of his pocket and dumping it on the table. Lestrade's stomach flipped as the genius attempted to rip the bag open with his teeth. The image of blood exploding out all over Sherlock and going into his mouth made him close to heaving.

Sherlock's teeth finally pierced through the plastic creating a small hole. The detective pulled out a small test tube and squeezed the bag making the dark red liquid squirt into the glass apparatus.

The police officer watched as the genius pulled a face as he could taste the metallic liquid on his lips. The dark haired man then proceeded to add a colourless liquid to the blood. He swirled it around. The policeman watched in amazement as the blood separated into three layers. The taller man grunted in satisfaction as the process had been successful. He then took a syringe and pulled up some of the darker layer of blood. He held it up to the light before injecting the DNA into a pale jelly that sat it a rectangular box. He injected it a few more times into different spots before turning on a battery pack which was attached via wires. A low and quiet hum echoed around the laboratory.

Sherlock nodded before turning the humming off and chucking the jelly into a bin.

"What was that for?"

"Just checking I remembered how to do it." Sherlock was so distracted that he didn't even bother making his answer sarcastic.

Sherlock then pulled the piece of card out of his pocket and got a scalpel-like knife and started scraping at the neat red ink.

"Okay ... but what are you doing now?" Greg put emphasis on the word now.

Sherlock didn't dignify it with an answer, instead he just tilted his head and gave Lestrade a look which said 'stupid'.

He then repeated the process with the jelly again but this time he left the humming noise going while he turned to face the officer. It looked like he was going to say something but changed his mind. Lestrade was getting impatient. He wanted to help John but what good was he doing here? Surely, I would be more use at the Yard organising a search or something.

Sherlock strode into the laboratory preparation room and came back with an identical rectangular box with identical pale jelly inside. He repeated the experiment on the sample Lestrade had brought with him.

After that was done he turned and faced Lestrade. It didn't look like he was going to speak but just stand in silence. This was too awkward for the policeman so he decided to make conversation. The sociopath sighed when he deduced that the other man was about to engage in a conversation.

"So ... What are we going to do now?"

Sherlock looked over at the detective inspector and simply gestured to the experiments in front of him. With a look that, once again, read as 'stupid'.

"What about them? What are they anyway?" Lestrade tried to guess but what could the vampire hoax murder have anything to do with John.

Sherlock groaned as if answering would seriously kill him.

"This is an experiment which will tell us about the DNA make-up. It is often used to find out which man is the father of a child. I am using it to see if the blood on the paper matches the DNA in the sample cells you brought me. Right now, we are waiting for the fragments of the cells to move towards the positive side of the electrophoresis gel. See the magnets? After it is done we can compare the hyper variable regions, which would have made a pattern, so we can see whether the blood on this sheet matches the cells from there," He pointed to the evidence bag. "It's commonly known as DNA fingerprinting." Sherlock explained so rapidly that Lestrade had trouble keeping up with the genius.

"... and we need to know that because ..."

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. You saw Anderson today. That explains why your brain cells have dwindled down into single digits. It would tell us that it is indeed John's blood on the card." Sherlock spoke like he was talking to an incompetent child.

"Why would John's blood be the same DNA as the man's cells?"

"Finally, an interesting question! Their DNA would match because after he murdered the man. John drank the blood." The genius smirked as he watched Lestrade's face pale and his brows furrow in confusion.

"What?!"

"Shut up. You sound like my brother when you said that," The sociopath glanced down at his watch before clapping his hands, rubbing them together and saying, in a sing-song voice,

"It's results time!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see John, captive and hurting.

Sherlock Holmes bound the radioactive probes before placing the dark photographic film over the electrophoresis gel.

Whatever happened next was a slight blur to the police officer. Sherlock was running backwards and forwards from the rectangular box over to the computer and was moving the box under various machines. Flicking switches and pushing red buttons, he seemed completely in control.

At last, after minutes of dancing around the room Sherlock finally stopped and positioned himself in front of the computer screen. His lips twisted into a scowl. His graceful hand beckoned the DI over to where he was standing.

"What do you think?" Sherlock said, tapping the screen.

Lestrade frowned looking at the dark blotches on the screen.

"Umm, yeah. Good. Well done?" Greg guessed cluelessly. Sherlock looked at the screen before looking down at the greying man, as if checking they had the same image in front of them.

"No, Lestrade! Not good! See?" Sherlock started circling a few of the fuzzy marks with the cursor.

"Umm ... Yes, I see. Bad, yes?" Greg tried to sound certain but he really was out of his depth.

"This is why I need John! He's a doctor! He can tell whether a basic DNA fingerprint is good or bad! Why aren't you a doctor?"

"Because I can't be? Look, Sherlock! You only have to put up with me for a little more until we get John back. Okay?" The consulting detective nodded silently. "Okay. Now tell me why this is bad?"

"The note. The one that was attached to the door. It was written in what I first suspected to be red ink but this experiment concludes that the note was written in blood. Also, from what I've learnt, after John drinks the blood it enters into his veins and arteries and becomes his blood until his body absorbs it all or does something with it. I suspect that is why he has to absorb every last drop from the body. He needs it to fill his empty veins. So this just proved that because the man's DNA is on the letter John's DNA is as well. This must mean that Alexander harmed John to draw the blood and what I've seen of the needles and such... Their skin is incredibly hard to break through. Understanding everything so far?"

"Uhhh ... Yes. No. A little. No, not at all."

Sherlock sighed again and looked at the detective inspector expectantly.

"Oh! You want to know what I don't understand. Well, so. Okay. Right. So Right. So John, John Watson formally of the RAMC, is a vampire. I am I getting this right?" Sherlock nodded impatiently. "Okay, you also say that he murdered the victim on the vampire hoax case?"

Sherlock nodded again, "Okay? Special question time over? I know you don't believe me but I will get John to prove it to you when we find him."

_He is lying. Sherlock isn't one for practical jokes though… Vampires don't exist. Sherlock is the genius so surely if anyone knew of vampires it would be him. It has to be a wind up. He can't be serious. I think he is though. Now you can't be serious! You cannot believe him. Oh my gosh! We believe him. We are basically saying that we believe that there are hundreds of magical sparkling vampires hanging around the forest and all feed off animals. Yeah, right? Let's just hope John, the vampire, introduces us to Edward Cullen! Yaay! Then we can all have a massive blood picnic with the enchanted fairies and elves. Oh, and let's get them to bring Santa and Spider-Man. Yeah because of course vampires exist._

"Lestrade!" Greg blinked to see Sherlock standing by the door looking at him with a confused expression. "I said 'are you coming?'"

Lestrade shook himself out of this mental battle to grab his coat and run after the younger man. He was surprised at how sarcastic his thoughts had turned. Even Sherlock would be proud of that display of sarcasm. _Where did I pick up all those Twilight references? Who in the fucking hell is Edward Cullen and why does he sparkle?_

His sarcastic brain is obviously a teenage girl. _Great!_

-

John's eyes cracked open slowly. _God, my head!_ His brain was pounding in the small confines of his skull. His stomach felt like in had converted to a washing machine and the last few litres of blood that he hadn't absorbed yet was sloshing around inside of him. Feeling sick was an understatement. He tries to open his eyes wider but the dull light burnt at his sensitive eyes. He could just make out a room but everything was fuzzy. _God, I hate waking up._

A slight burning on his forearm brought the vampire's blurry vision down to the pain. A long gash on his arm was the source of the discomfort and a small dribble of stolen blood was trickling down his flesh. The wide cut was obviously recent any longer than an hour or two and his body would have closed the wound already.

Tingling sensations danced around the wound making John want to itch and scratch at the wound. _Whoever is holding me here must know about my strong skin._

He could hear the echo of expensive shoes outside of the room. The quiet noise ripped through his head like a bullet. _God, I hate the transition from unconscious to conscious. It's so bloody painful._ John pulled his arms in so he could wrap them around his head but as he tried pulling his arms towards himself they wouldn't come to him.

He looked up and, through his blurry vision, he could just make out that he was bound to the wall with thick mixed metal chains and cuffs. He gave an experimental pull on the cuffs but there was no way they were going to move from their position on the wall. John had no doubt that inside the outer layer of metals would be a silver core. If this pure silver touched John's skin it would blister and burn. Most silver items were alright because it was mixed with other metals so would just irritate John's skin and in the worst cases just leave a painful rash. Pure silver is different. If touched it would cause him great pain. The trapped vampire could feel his wrists tingling as his skin could sense the silver through the other metals.

_Great. Who could possibly know of my intolerance to silver. Only a vampire. Alexander!_

The aforementioned man suddenly waltzed into the small, damp and dull room. It wasn't much more than a prison cell. Where could he be?

"Good morning, my fangtastical little love. How are you? Have a good sleep?" Alexander's voice was sickeningly sing-song and the vampire knew of John's pains. The tall suited vampire chuckled at his own joke. _Fangtastical. Very funny._

John's lips curled back and a growl ripped from his throat. A shiver pinched down his spine as his fangs descended causing the sweet pain to fill John's jaw. He saw a dramatic change as his pupils widened. The world around him became crisper. Not his usual large pupil HD vision because of his recent awakening but marginally better.

"Now, now John! Remember how we used to be? Why aren't we like that anymore?" Alexander asked innocently. He sounded like he was almost reminiscing.

Alexander's voice echoed around the angry vampires head causing John to wince. John closed his eyes tightly, trying to deal with the pain, before he closed his eyes he saw Alexander smirking at his pain.

"You went crazy. Absolutely, mental with power! You cannot control everyone and everything!" John's voice was deep, dark and threatening. It was his vampire voice.

"Actually, I think you will find I can and I will."

On that note, Alexander pulled a sharp knife out of his inside jacket pocket and as he did a menacing grin spread across his face.

"If I can't have you then no one can!"

John's eyes flew open just in time to see Alexander as he lunged at the bound vampire, knife first, cackling to himself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad torture from a even madder vampire.

The silver butcher's knife carried on its path towards the doctor. The knife didn't halt or falter as it tore through John's skin. The knife sliced through the solid muscle as of it was butter.

A pained scream dragged itself from deep within John's chest. His fangs descended further at the pain and his arms automatically pulled at the cuffs in a feeble attempt to free himself.

The suited vampire stepped back to admire his handy work. A smile riddled his handsome face, "Now, look what you make me do" His tone made him sound like an unhappy mother who had dropped a glass of water.

John looked down to where the pain was radiating from. His white shirt was turning red as the blood leaked out of John's side and soaked into the thin material.

The knife had ripped through the fabric and the tore through John's strong skin until it reached the vampire's muscle underneath. The wound was on his left side and went deep into his body. A human would have died of blood loss at the speed the liquid was pouring out of him.

"Oh no! What a mess! Here I see you've got your hands tied so let me help you there, Johnny!" Alexander had an innocence written on his face.

The suited man rushed forward and only sighed as John growled at him. The tall vampire had the knife grasped tightly between his fingers. He held the blade at the bottom of John's shirt and swiftly pulled it up so it effectively cut the thin material in half. He pulled the fabric apart revealing a toned and well defined chest. The suited man sighed in satisfaction and stroked along John's ribs as if he couldn't see the smears of red he was drawing along John's torso.

The vampire fell down onto his knees in front of John. He moved his mouth over to hover above the slit in the doctor's body. He pulled his cold tongue along the wound lapping up the cool blood. John pulled against his restraints.

Alexander now had his fangs descended and his pupils were widened. Small specks of blood had fallen down onto his neat grey suit.

"There, you see? All better?" Alexander moved his hand to cup John's chin. The bound vampire jerked his face away from the pale, thin fingers.

John snarled at the vampire. Alexander pulled his arm back suddenly. His fingers curling into a fist and then he snapped it forward. The punch hit John perfectly in the centre of his face. The ex-soldier rolled his neck and groaned as the dull thundering worsened in the back of his skull.

"Now, that should teach you to pull away from me, Love." Alexander snarled the sentence but he seemed to melt on the last word making it sound soft.

Once again the handsome vampire placed his hand around John's jaw. The good doctor didn't move. He didn't even breathe. He stayed stock still and glared at the other vampire.

Alexander proceeded to stroke his cool thumb along John's bottom lip. John still didn't move. He drew in closer and kissed John violently. The doctor felt hate burning in his chest. God, I miss Sherlock. The shorter vampire didn't kiss back instead he kept his eyes dead and his face emotionless.

"Don't you just love me?" Alexander mumbled against the soldiers lips. The suited vampire frowned when John didn't reply. He grabbed the silver knife and dragged it slowly along the inside of John's arm causing the skin to spilt and blood to swell to the top, "Don't. You. Just. Love. Me?!" He yelled through gritted teeth.

John's breathing was ragged as the pain darted through his system. Alexander laughed cheerfully in the face of John's suffering. He lifted the knife out of the long cut he had caused in John's arm which was now bleeding profusely. The blood was trickling down from the wound along his wrist over his palm and dripping off the tips of his fingers. The drips of blood were dropping to the floor almost consistently.

The suit clad vampire strolled to the door and left the room leaving a slightly confused John but before the soldier could get a chance to heal to any of the damage, the menacing vampire was back in the small room wielding a smaller silver blade.

Alexander removed his expensive suit jacket before rolling up his sleeves. He threw the blade from one hand to the other, mumbling to himself.

The taller male clicked his neck before addressing John.

"Why don't you love me anymore?" Alexander started tracing shapes on John's neck with the blade but didn't apply enough pressure to puncture the skin. The silver from the blade made the skin it ran over turn red and rise up. The bound man's muscles twitched as the silver tingled and stung the vampire's neck.

John didn't reply. Alexander pressed harder on the blade causing it to puncture the skin. Blood trickled down to the doctor's collar where the corner of the ripped shirt was absorbing the blood.

"Oh no! Look, you've gotten hurt. Here let me make it better!" The vampire lowered his head and kissed the punctured skin. When he straightened out to his full height John could see red smudged across the full lips and one of the cheeks. The vampire laughed as he saw John's eyes watching his blood coated lips. His tongue darted across each lip freeing it from any blood. He wiped the dark crimson liquid from his check and looked down at his bloody finger.

John's lips were parted slightly from trying to keep his breathing even. Alexander took full advantage of that as he moved his finger and placed it into John's mouth getting rid of the blood.

The tender look on the suited man's face suddenly changed into a look of fury.

"I will ask you one more time. Why don't you love me anymore?" With each word spoken he pressed the silver knife harder against John's jugular.

He waited for a reply which they both knew wasn't coming. He sighed, "What a waste of time." The vampire chucked the small blade onto the concrete floor.

John was puzzled as the other man left the room. While the man was absent John tried to regain his breath. The pain of the silver was still fresh in each wound. John could feel blood dripping off him and all of his clothes were stained red with blood but he didn't have the energy to look and see. As the blood was flowing out of his body so was the life. He would soon end up in a coma-like state again then after Alexander had a bit more fun with silver butcher's knives he would probably die.

John let his head fall so his chin could rest on his chest. His vision was becoming blurry again as he lost all energy from his body. He could barely keep his eyes open as Alexander sprang back in the room.

He was holding a large dagger which was decorated with crosses and gem stones. It almost looked like a dagger made for sacrifices. John's eyes followed the other vampire around the room because he couldn't lift his head anymore.

Alexander turned and faced his old lover. A look of disappointment on his face. He slowly stepped forward to give John enough time to change his mind and offer an answer but when no answer was given he raised the dagger with it directed at John.

Alexander plunged the long silver blade of the dagger into John's neck piercing directly through the jugular. The suited man let go of the handle so the long blade remained embedded in his cold artery.

John let out a grunt of discomfort. The dagger wouldn't kill John because he didn't need the blood but he could feel himself slipping into unconscious. Not again.

"If you're still conscious I will come and deal with you later. I have other business to attend to."

The vampire collected his suit jacket, hung it over his shoulders and waltzed out. He didn't remove the blade from the soldier's neck. The silver was causing the skin around the area to itch and tingle. He could feel it as it started to slowly burn in his flesh. Darkness was encroaching on his vision.

No! I will not fall unconscious. I am not going to deal with that pain of waking up again. What will Sherlock think if he sees me like this?

After a few minutes of battling to stay conscious, a large menacing thug lumbered into the room with his fingers curled into tight fists. The large man swung at the doctor. Oh no. John couldn't move to dodge the punch so it landed straight in the centre of his jaw. The man might have only been human but in John's weakened state the punch packed a bite.

John could feel the last of his life running out of him into the large red puddle that was forming around his bound feet.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock, Mycroft and Lestrade strive to find John.

Sherlock sprang awake. He jolted up into a seated position while his hand stretched out to grab the empty bed sheets next to him. He sighed, wishing John was beside him. The detective rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and grunted in frustration when he saw small trails of water on his palms.

The genius wiped away the cold sweat that had formed on the back of his neck and forehead. Stupidly idiotic nightmares. The detective huffed as he pulled himself out of his bed. His eyes flicked over to his alarm clock: _4:10_.

His brother and Lestrade had forced the sociopath to sleep under the threat of sedation. They didn't understand how lonely Sherlock felt lying alone in the darkness. He may have only spent one night with John but the doctor had shown Sherlock what it was like to be loved and the detective was missing that new feeling.

Sherlock stretched up and stood staring at the door. He could hear Mycroft and Greg talking about myths and legends. The conversation probably stemmed from a talk about the likelihood of John being a vampire. It had been two days since John had been taken and although it seemed easy to begin with finding John was beginning to become harder. Since the first note from Alexander, no others have arrived and the vampire's hacking skills had made it difficult for Mycroft and his men.

Sherlock sighed. He needed John. How did they not understand that? He dressed himself into a fresh suit and stepped out into the living area. His brother was deep in conversation with the policeman.

"Sherlock?!" His high pitched arrogant voice made Sherlock wince. Why? No, Mycroft. Please leave me be. "Why are you not in bed asleep?"

"Surely, you can figure it out, brother," Sherlock snarled. "I woke up."

Lestrade stepped in to stop the outbreak of world war three, "Yes, thank you Sherlock, but what your brother meant was why did you wake up so soon? You've only had four hours."

Sherlock looked down at his shoes, "I got lonely"

The detective mumbled it quickly before shuffling past the weapons that could be used, effectively, on a vampire and carrying on his path to the kitchen.

The DI and the politician continued talking about John but now they had swayed the conversation so it was about how to free John. Mycroft informed both men that he had reinforced the firewall on all his systems so they had a day or two before the vampires hacked into it again. He suggested that they use this time to follow the dark governmental car that took John on his CCTV . He was certain the footage would have been kept safe from their vampire hackers.

Sherlock was lost deep in his mind palace so didn't notice the two men rise to leave. He sat with his fingers in a prayer position, analysing data that sprang around in his mind. The other men looked down at him before deciding it best to let the genius think. Lestrade left a note which he wedged between the detective's steeple shaped hands.

_Gone to Mycroft's office to watch over CCTV. Welcome to join us once you finish thinking. Greg_

The note stayed in place for two hours until the genius pulled himself out of his thoughts. He read the letter over twice. Who the hell is 'Greg'? His mind raced for facts. Gregory Lestrade. Detective inspector. Scotland Yard. Stay on good side/provider of cases. Oh... it's Lestrade.

Sherlock discarded of the note on the table and let his eyes glance around the cluttered room. Three large boxes lay near the door with two smaller ones placed beside them. From what Sherlock could deduce it was defence against vampires. In other words, a lot of silver. He pulled himself over to the boxes and peered inside.

There were weapons of all types, shapes and sizes ranging from knives to guns. Sherlock pulled out a sharp knife. It wasn't a kitchen knife. It was more of a large silver switch blade. The detective stood twisting it in his hands for a minute before he tucked it gently into his suit pocket.

Sherlock dragged his phone out of his pocket that didn't have the blade in. He needed data. What was going on?

_Any progress? -SH_

_We have found the van on my CCTV footage from the day. We are just following it along the recording. -MH_

Sherlock dropped his phone onto the coffee table and started reading some files Mycroft had brought over. It was all based on vampires. Some information came from myth, legend and some sort of modern pop culture where they sparkled. It was clear that both men didn't quite believe in John's vampire existence.

The sociopath's head jolted up as he heard a squeak from the floorboards on the stairs. The visitor didn't slow down because of the noise. They just continued climbing the stairs. Sherlock allowed a small blossom of hope to bloom in his chest. John?

The person on the stairs didn't knock once they had arrived at the door. They simply pushed the door open gently and watched as it swung away before taking a theatrical step forward into the room.

The visitor had a wide grin stretched across his attractive face. Sherlock's mouth turned into a scowl of hatred at the sight of his visitor. The detective dropped the vampire file he had been reading onto the floor. Who on Earth is this sparkly Edward Cullen? More research will be conducted.

Sherlock rose to his full height to look down, only slightly, at the unwelcome guest.

"Alexander."

"Sherly!" The psychopathic vampire giggled.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Alexander have a face off.

The vampire stepped further into the room. He started fiddling with his golden cufflinks, "John really likes you."

The vampire paused for Sherlock to reply. He raised his eyebrow as the detective remained silent, glaring at the suited creature. The government official wandered around the flat, inspecting all the books on the bookshelf.

Alexander pulled his finger along the shelf leaving a clean dust free line behind the digit, "That isn't good. Do you realise that?" Alexander turned his head to look at the detective but kept his body facing away from him.

The vampire looked down at the floor, shaking his head in disapproval.

"No. Not at all good." The suited man continued to pace around the room picking up things and looking at them in interest. "I was playing with John but he is taking a nap so he's being boring."

Sherlock instantly knew what that implied, vampires don't sleep, and he snarled at the vampire. He looked quickly to his left at the large boxes. The vampire obviously knew what they contained; his skin was dancing as he swept past it.

"Now my only problem is YOU." The vampire pointed a thin finger firmly in the detective's direction. The suited vampire turned so his whole body was facing the sociopath.

Sherlock could see that Alexander's fangs had descended and his pupils were blown wide in anger. The taller man pulled his hand into his suit pocket and gently fingered the silver blade he had hidden there.

Alexander's eyes darted down to Sherlock's pocket and a small smile spread across his face.

Alexander suddenly lunged forward at the detective underestimating the speed of Sherlock's reactions. The sociopath pulled out the blade and, with it in his hand, he leapt towards the approaching vampire.

They met in the middle as Alexander grabbed a hold of Sherlock's wrist and Sherlock made his other hand plunge the knife into the vampire's side.

Without letting go of the detective's wrist the vampire looked down and hissed in pain as the silver began to scold his skin. The look on the vampire's face when he looked back up at Sherlock was murderous.

His mouth twisted into an ugly grin as he slowly tightened the pressure on Sherlock's wrist. _Oh no, I know what is going to happen here_. The detective had seen John do this to a criminal not a week before.

Alexander continued to squeeze the wrist as pain started to shoot up the sociopath's arm. Not long after the vampire had started applying the pressure a painful snapped accompanied the searing pain. Sherlock let out a grunt of discomfort but wouldn't let the scream tear out from his chest.

Sherlock grasped the blade with the hand that wasn't being held by a vampire. He pulled it back and the vampire hissed again as the silver brushed passed previously undamaged skin. The detective then pulled his arm back and with all the power he could muster he rammed it into the vampire's heart.

Alexander winced at the pain but didn't release Sherlock's wrist. Cold blood was trickling down the front of the vampire's suit and the stab wound in his side was also poring blood. In his adrenaline fuelled state, Alexander hadn't noticed the large amount of blood that was leaving his body.

The vampire lifted Sherlock up by his damaged wrist and flung him against the far wall. The detective could feel each bone groan in pain as he hit the wallpapered brick. He looked up at Alexander who was slowly approaching him. Blood was leaving a trail after the suited governmental man. The vampire hadn't noticed that his pupils were shrinking back to their normal size as a result of the lack of blood. They needed it just as bed as humans.

As Alexander had pushed the detective away, the human had grabbed the silver knife out of the vampire so he could have some defence after landing on the floor.

The vampire hadn't realised that the silver had been removed from his chest as he once again launched himself at the man on the floor.

Sherlock saw the vampire leap at him so he pulled the blade up and pointed it at the man flying towards him. It was too late for the vampire to stop himself and he continued on at the detective even after the silver knife had penetrated the skin on his neck.

Alexander collapsed on top of the sociopath. The burn of the knife stopped any thoughts or plans he once had. He was gasping for breath and didn't have enough energy to lift himself up. He lay limp over the detective as blood started dripping down onto Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled the handsome young man off his bruised chest. The bleeding man lay still save for the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Sherlock shifted so he was visible in the vampire's line of sight.

"What have you done with my John?" The detective snarled at the injured vampire.

"Your John?" The man panted between breaths. "I've done nothing to YOUR John. Although, to MY John is a different matter altogether."

The sociopath pulled the knife out of the vampire's neck and stabbed it in further. He watched as the life slipped out of the vampire. Blood was slowly pooling around the still body. He had slipped into the unconsciousness that came with blood loss.

The detective pulled himself up and winced as he straightened his bruised bones. The wall was pretty hard especially when you get thrown at it. He tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his wrist.

Sherlock picked up his phone and typed out a text.

_I require your assistance. Come immediately -SH_

_We are on our way. What is the matter? - MH_

Sherlock's reply came slower than Mycroft was expecting.

_Alexander wanted a chat. Where does John keep the first aid kit? –SH_

Mycroft knew everything he needed from that text alone.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and Mycroft reach Sherlock's flat.

Mycroft tore into 221B Baker Street ready to see Sherlock being held captive by the governmental vampire or worse, his brother not there at all. Lestrade was hot on his heels so ran straight into the back of the elder Holmes as the man suddenly stopped.

Mycroft stopped with wide eyes and mouth slightly open at the sight of a vampire lying unconscious on the floor. Alexander was lying in a puddle of blood and with a blade still sticking out of his neck. Trails of blood, which were starting to dry, were painted on the vampire's neck leading down from the silver knife. The vampire lay completely still apart from the small movement of shallow breathing in his chest.

Mycroft stepped cautiously forward and poked the unconscious figure with the tip of his expensive shoe. When he was satisfied with the unconscious man, he set about looking for Sherlock. A loud shout caught his and Greg's attention.

"What are you?!"

Mycroft and Lestrade shared a brief look before darting off in the direction of the noise. Had Sherlock captured another mythical creature?

The shout led them to Sherlock's bedroom where they found the detective sat cross legged on his bed with the contents of the first aid kit spread around him.

He was reading the back of a packet in curiosity. The first aid side of things was usually left to John. The kit was well stocked full of plasters and bandages as well as things that were more suited to an ambulance and not a home medical kit. It was clear it belonged to a doctor... Who obviously had a criminal chasing, gun wielding, sociopath for a flatmate.

Sherlock was peering into a pack of flannel-like things. Apparently, you heated them up or something. He had one hand holding up the box and the other was laid in his lap. Lestrade rushed over to his consultant and knelt on the floor by the bed. Mycroft strolled in at a much more leisurely pace and sat on a chair in the corner of the room. Watching his brother with his eyebrows raised and he even looked slightly impressed that Sherlock had taken down a vampire. From what Mycroft had heard, it is extremely hard to harm the creatures.

Lestrade picked up Sherlock's damaged wrist gently and desperately attempted to remember the first aid course he took years ago.

"Ouch!" Sherlock grimaced.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm not a doctor so we will have to make do with what I can do."

Lestrade wrapped Sherlock's wrist to the best of his ability in the professional bandages that lay on the bed. It was a bit rough but would have to do. Sherlock mumbled his thanks before turning to his brother.

"Did you find out where the van was taking John?"

"We were ever so close when you sent your text. We suspect that he is being held in one of the warehouses along the Thames. Not very imaginative although, I don't know if vampires are known for their creativity." Mycroft told his brother.

Lestrade spoke before Sherlock could reply, "Now, Sherlock? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Sherlock sighed, "I think I will probably have bad bruising but apart from the wrist. No, nowhere else."

The sound of the flat door clicking shut caused the conversation to come to a sudden halt. The three men leapt to their feet and sprinted into living room to find it empty. There was nobody there including Alexander. Sherlock's eyes darted over the room looking for clues to where Alexander went. He stopped when his eyes fell upon a fresh Victoria sponge cake and a large, tall, dark bottle. The two items had been placed on the coffee table with a small card in front of them. The card had a dark logo on it. The logo matched the one that was on Alexander's briefcase that he had brought John's blood over in the first time he had met Sherlock. It was a black 'T' with silver all around it with a black circular border. Pretty dull and corporate, had been Sherlock's first thought when he saw the briefcase with the logo on. The vampire also had it stamped on his cufflinks. Sherlock was sure John also had cufflinks with that logo on.

The three men cautiously edged closer to the card, cake and dark bottle. Sherlock picked up the small card in his uninjured hand and slowly opened it to see neatly hand written words. He read it out to the other men in the room.

_**Mr Holmes,** _

_**We truly hope you accept this gift along with our deepest apologies. We will make sure that Mr Spruce is dealt with in the appropriate manner. He will be no longer be any concern of yours. Send our best wishes to Dr Watson.** _

_**Sincerely yours,** _

_**James Stephenson** _

Along the very bottom of the card was a printed line, it said,

_**Society of Vampires - Powerful but Peaceful People.** _

The three men looked at each other in slight bewilderment. Mycroft frowned down at the floor. _How has this organisation been operating without my knowledge?_

Lestrade frowned down at the floorboards as well. _These vampires might be reasonable suspects for the vampire hoaxes. Although, Sherlock already said it was John._

Sherlock frowned down at the floor mirroring the other men. _Where are you, John?_

Sherlock looked over to his brother.

"How close are you to finding John's exact location?"

"My people are on it as we speak. Shouldn't be long. They will inform me as soon as he has been located."

The sociopath began to pace the floor stepping over the cold blood that lay where the vampire previously was. John. _John. Where are you? John!_

Mycroft rang for a clean-up team to remove the red liquid from the floorboards. It would be the second time in a week that they had visited the flat. As soon as Mycroft hung up, his phone began to chime. Sherlock stopped pacing to stare at his brother. Mycroft continued to talk with his men on the other end of the line.

"Yes... Where? ... Send the address to my driver immediately... Thank you" The government official turned to his little brother "They've found the location."

Sherlock was out of the door and halfway down the stairs before his brother had finished talking. Mycroft turned to Lestrade, "You can come if you want but I would prefer it if you kept those chimps you call your team out of this. It is strictly government. We wouldn't want people panicking about a vampire invasion now, would we?"

Mycroft was clearly worried. He would have never usually spoken the way he just did.

"It's alright. You go and with Sherlock to save John. I need to get back to my chimps." Lestrade nodded as if he was agreeing with himself that he had made the right decision. "Go! Sherlock is waiting"

Mycroft nodded at the DI before striding out of the room. He looked longing at the cake as he left. The detective stayed for a few minutes after the Holmes brothers. He wondered over to the card, cake and dark bottle. The glass was almost completely black so it was nearly impossible to see through. Greg picked it up and looked at the base of the bottle. It had a golden sticker on the bottom with information hand written on it.

_1896 - Parisian_

They seem like a nice organisation or why else would they be giving out wine? It looked expensive. Lestrade pulled the cork out of the top ignoring the tag that hung around the dark neck. The detective inspector sniffed the contents before moving it away from his nose as swiftly as he could manage. The liquid had a metallic smell which caused the man to feel queasy. It was slightly familiar but he couldn't place it. He pushed the cork back into the top and turned over the tag so he could read what was written.

_**-John. We hope this makes up for the inconvenience Alexander has caused. We apologize. - SOV** _

Lestrade was briefly confused but the answer came quickly, SOV- Society of Vampires.

It suddenly dawned on the policeman what the bottle must contain. He put the bottle down as quickly as his arms would allow. John is a vampire so what would other vampires give as gifts? Blood.

There was also a tag that was leaning against the cake. It read the same apart from the change in name from John to Sherlock. That makes sense. Cake for Sherlock and blood for John. The DI smiled slightly at the thought of Sherlock sat eat cake (as unlikely as it was) and John sat next to him drinking his bottle of blood.

Lestrade sighed, _I just hope John will be okay_.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock searches the warehouse

To Sherlock the journey in the dark car was long and tedious. He couldn't stop himself from bouncing his leg with nervous energy. During the car ride the detective continued to shift and fidget in his seat.

Mycroft sent a disapproving look at his brother. Did he have to keep moving?

Sherlock restrained himself from snapping at his politician brother. He needed to be completely focused on rescuing his lover.

The dark car drove towards the large warehouses along the side of the river Thames and Sherlock could barely contain his panic as they got closer. What if John isn't there? What if they'd moved him?!

The sociopath tapped his fingers against the door handle ready to escape as soon as the car had slowed. They passed the first few warehouses, as they did Sherlock tensed up, and carried on until they were just one away from the last.

The dark haired man was about to bolt out of the car when a firm hand stopped him. Sherlock looked down at the hand and then up at its owner with a confused expression.

"If we are too late then don't blame yourself." This was the closest to a heart to heart the Holmes brothers had ever had. The sentiment made the detective screw his face up.

The sociopath looked down at his brother's hand in disgust which caused Mycroft to release him. The taller man dashed out of the door and over towards the entrance of the warehouse.

He reached the door and began pulling at the metal handle. The door was locked. He felt like screaming in frustration. John was inside there and the door was LOCKED!

Sherlock turned to ask for help from his brother. The plea died on his lips as he saw his brother leaning against the car with the door key hanging from his fingers and a smirk plastered across his face. The detective wasted no time with sarcastic comments instead he leapt over to his brother and grabbed the key. Sherlock was back at the door and unlocking it before Mycroft could scold the detective for being rude.

A handful of Mycroft's men followed Sherlock into the building. The corridor was dark and you could smell the damp that turned the concrete floor a darker shade. Sherlock rushed down the long corridor ducking his head into each room in a frantic search for his vampire.

Mycroft's men had run on and were checking the rooms on the other side of the large building.

Sherlock swiftly checked a dark room before moving on to the next. His hope was slowly being sucked out of him. Where are you, John?

The next room was dark but small lights caught the detective's attention. The lights were in a variety of colours. Red, orange, green and there was some yellow lights that were not constant but instead they blinked and flashed.

This room was different from the rest. Every other room was empty and had no lights. Sherlock frowned and cautiously stepped further into the room. He felt the wall beside him without taking his eyes off the darkness. He found an old switch. He flicked the switch and the small lights, which were hung from the roof, slowly blinked to life.

Sherlock's frown deepened and his eyes widened in surprise. In front of the sociopath sat a modern computer system with multiple large screens and two keyboards placed on the huge desk. A dark swivel chair lay up-turned on the floor. The system seemed pretty high tech and Sherlock almost immediately knew what it had been used for.

Surveillance and monitoring. They were using this to watch John. To ensure he remained in their hands?

The detective turned to leave the small room when something caught his eye. The sociopath slowly edged around the large desk area. On the floor in front of him lay a man. He had been killed. The dead man's skin held a ghostly grey tone to it and his eyes, which were open, were dull and void of emotion.

Sherlock knelt down beside the man and tilted the victims head back so he could get a good view of his neck. As expected by Sherlock, there were two puncture wounds on the man's neck directly above the jugular.

The sociopath rose to his feet and shook his head. Alexander had obviously wanted to tie up loose ends and get a snack at the same time. Sherlock's mind leapt over to the scene that was at his flat. The blood that remained on the floorboards was bound to belong to this man.

Time to find my John.

Sherlock continued to run down the corridor looking in the rooms. He was looking into one of the dull empty rooms when one of Mycroft's men charged in. Sherlock looked up at him expectantly.

"Mr Holmes. We've found him." The man panted after running halfway around the building.

"Come on then. Where?" Sherlock was already getting fed up with waiting the short few seconds it took for the man to answer and was marching towards the door.

The shorter man ran back out of the room with Sherlock close on his heels. The detective was slightly confused when they left the warehouse through the old backdoor but he carried on following the man who seemed certain of his direction.

The leading man slowed as they approached a small building just behind the warehouse with at most two rooms. The detective looked down at him in uncertainty whilst the other man hurried off mumbling something about informing his boss.

Sherlock stood outside the door looking around curiosity when another of his brother's men opened the door and looked up apologetically at the tall man. Sherlock frowned again at the sympathetic expression. John? What's wrong with John?

Sherlock pushed past the man holding open the heavy door and stormed into the damp room. It was small and dark. It smelt and the air felt thick making the sociopath want to cough.

"Don't just stand there! Where is he?" Sherlock demanded from the man.

The other man pointed towards a heavy metal door. The detective rushed over and laid a palm on the metal. Silver, he thought to himself, I think I read somewhere that silver repels vampires.

Sherlock pulled the heavy door out of his way and timidly walked into the room, not wanting to see how bad John was.

The overwhelmingly strong smell of metallic blood hit him in the back the throat making him gag even though he had experienced bloody murders before. The second thing that caught the detective was the darkness of the room. There were no windows and the bulb in the lamp had been broken; recently, Sherlock assumed.

Sherlock's eyes searched the darkness for his blogger.

It took a few seconds before the detective's eyes crossed the doctor. It took a while before his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light.

Oh God! John?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RESCUED!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are supposed to be in italics but unfortunately, I can't sort that for every chapter right now x

John was hanging limp from the wall bound by his wrists and ankles that were red and covered in a painful blistering. His head was resting on his stained red chest. The weight that was being put on his arms looked excruciating. Sherlock suspected that for a normal human their shoulders would have already been dislocated under the pressure. The unconscious vampire's clothes were stained a deep red and there was also patches of brown where the blood had dried. John's face was dull and grey. Sherlock could see the slits in his side and chest, seeping and dark. 

The detective moved forward to reach for his lover. He tilted up his head to see a sliver knife in his partner's neck going directly through the jugular vein. The skin around the blade was red from blood but it was also blistered and had come up in a weeping rash. Thick red trails led down from the punctured skin.

Sherlock wrapped his hand carefully around the blade and tugged it out of his John.

He looked down at the knife and noted that it was pure silver so the myth about vampires' intolerance to silver must be correct. The detective peered at the blistered and burnt skin that was around the neck wound.

Sherlock stepped forward towards John but stopped when his foot fell into an unexpected puddle. The detective looked down in confusion before leaping back when he realised that it was a puddle of blood and not just any blood. It was John's blood.

It had started to dry but bits stuck onto the sociopath's shoe. Sherlock swallowed. He was suddenly feeling very queasy.

He took a step back and looked at John. What do I need to do? He felt so helpless. John. What do you need? Please tell me! The detective fluttered his hands in the air. When had he become so powerless and completely useless? The sociopath sighed as he remembered Alexander sending him out just before injecting the blood. Blood, I need blood and a thick needle and large syringe.

Light suddenly flooded the small room. The detective turned to look in the direction of the source. A ghostly silhouette stepped in front of the powerful lamp. Sherlock grunted in frustration when he noticed that the silhouette was overweight.

"Sherlock," Mycroft greeted Sherlock without tearing his eyes away from a bloody John. "What is the protocol here? What are we required to do?"

"I'm not sure. I saw the beginning of the process but then Alexander asked me to leave the room." The detective mumbled to his brother. He was ashamed that the vampire had been able to get him to do whatever he wanted. In his moment of shock, Sherlock would have obeyed any command that fell from that vampire's lips.

"So what do we need to start?"

Sherlock looked up at his brother. He wanted to see him flinch, "Blood and lots of it. A large syringe. Make sure the accompanying needle is very strong and definitely not silver."

Mycroft stayed composed as he rapidly typed into his smartphone.

"I am correct in assuming that we will be moving him to Baker Street for a smooth, comfortable recovery?" Mycroft had finished typing out his text and was looking at his younger brother.

Sherlock replied with the affirmative immediately. No need for John to be any more uncomfortable then he already will be.

Mycroft looked back over at John. He certainly didn't look like a stereotypical vampire. He didn't have sharp white fangs or ghostly white skin. He looked normal. He looked human.

Sherlock followed his brother's gaze and sighed when he deduced what Mycroft was thinking, "I will get him to demonstrate his vampire...ness after he has recovered but until then will you help me get him down?"

Mycroft moved forward to help the detective with the chains. As he got closer he could see the redness of John's wrists. He looked for a keyhole or lock of some kind but there was nothing there. Mycroft could see his brother was becoming agitated again. I told him caring isn't an advantage.

The politician pulled out his phone and rapidly dialled in the number of his security personnel. He barked in orders once the person on the other end of the line had answered.

Less than a minute later, his demands were met as a well-built man ran into the room clutching large bolt cutters. The man strained as he cut the strong chains binding John to the wall.

Sherlock surged forward suddenly realising that John was about to fall into the puddle of blood on the floor. He reached his partner just in time. He held John in bridal style hold and followed Mycroft out of the dark room.

John was quite light as a result of having his blood almost completely drained and Sherlock guessed that vampires' would be naturally light anyway. The Holmes brothers made good progress and were soon back at the car.

Sherlock could see his brother frowning with distaste as he positioned a bloody John across the leather seats. The doctor was leaving a red trail across the dark chairs. Sherlock ignored the blood and sat next to the vampire. He leant John's head gently to rest on his shoulder.

Come on, John. Not long now.

The car journey was just as long and tedious as the previous but a little less anxious now that the genius had his doctor. Sherlock looked down at John. He inspected every slit, cut and slash. It seemed that Alexander knew that it would take effort to hurt John so instead settled on drawing the blood from him. The sociopath scowled, how dare he?

Mycroft watched as Sherlock clung to his blogger. He really seemed to care about him. A small frown caused creases to form on the politician's forehead. Maybe caring wasn't so much of a disadvantage after all. The elder Holmes studied the two men until they had reached Baker Street.

He stepped out onto the pavement to greet the man with a heavy briefcase. It was full of the supplies he had previously ordered. Mycroft smiled slightly in satisfaction.

He turned as he heard his brother grunt as he hauled John into his arms. Mycroft swiftly thanked the man and took the briefcase from him. No need for anyone else to get too deeply involved.

The politician led the way up the stairs and waited in the living room for his brother to catch up. He could hear Sherlock panting under the strain of climbing the stairs while holding the vampire.

Sherlock reached the top and, without stopping, continued on into his bedroom. Mycroft scurried after the detective and entered the room as Sherlock was laying his lover on his bed, ignoring the blood that was seeping into the bed sheets. Mycroft felt slightly uncomfortable invading Sherlock's bedroom while John was there. Any concern was soon forgotten as Sherlock held out his hand and demanded that the briefcase should be handed to him. Mycroft complied, handing the blood carrier to the genius.

Sherlock proceeded to fall to his knees and rip open the briefcase.

He waved his hands around in a silent signal of overwhelming panic. Mycroft stepped forward and placed a steady hand on the sociopath's shoulder. Sherlock looked up. Mycroft gave him a reassuring nod before rapidly removing his hand. This was already too sentimental for the brothers. They really were out of their depth.

The ebony haired man calmed himself and took a deep breath. He pulled a large syringe out of the dark case. The blood wasn't in dark bags; John isn't going to be pleased about that when he awakes. Sherlock smiled at the thought of John waking up.

He picked up a clear bag and pierced the thick needle through the plastic. Mycroft watched curiously as Sherlock drew the deep red liquid into the syringe.

Sherlock pulled the needle back out of the bag and tapped the syringe making the bubbles of air move. He hovered the needle over a vein in John's arm before turning to his brother.

"Things can only get better... Right?"

Mycroft didn't reply to Sherlock's question. He kept his eyes trained on the needle.

The detective plunged the needle through the vampire's tough skin and into the empty vein. His fingers tensed ready to push the liquid into his partner.

Here it goes. Come on, john!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arise John.

The two men waited with baited breath as they watched the blood being injected into the still doctor. Sherlock removed the syringe and peered down at John. Nothing was happening.

_Oh God! Oh God! What have I done?_

Mycroft saw the panic in his brother's eyes and urged him to keep going. They had only added the smallest amount of blood which surely couldn't make a difference. The detective agreed. _Logic. I must remember logic_.

The genius collected more of the blood into the syringe and once again repeated the action of injecting it into John. He watched again as nothing happened. _Maybe I'm doing it wrong._

Despite his doubt the sociopath was determined to save his lover. He carried on injecting the blood into the doctor until almost all of it was gone. Still no movement.

Sherlock sighed, _I've failed. I've lost John_.

The genius stood next to his brother and studied his companion. His skin held more of a red tinge then before, it was less grey and dull. He looked noticeably less vampire-like now.

Sherlock's eyes were suddenly drawn to the doctor's hand. The vampire's fingers were moving, twitching. The detective looked at his brother to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Mycroft had a rare smile on his face.

This was it. All of the blood was gone from the bags. It had been transferred into the vampire. Maybe, just maybe, this will work.

Sherlock's mind searched for what will happen next. What happened last time? John woke up and was in a terrible mood.

The detective swiftly turned and ushered his brother out of the room. He rapidly shut the door and leant against it.

"What in blazes name are you doing man?" Mycroft couldn't hold in his curiosity.

Sherlock turned and looked his brother up and down before raising an eyebrow. Mycroft looked down at himself, as a consequence of Sherlock's actions, but he was as neat and proper as always. The politician looked back up at his brother in confusion.

"John might be a little ...," the detective searched for the word, "unfriendly when he wakes up. Sleeping isn't natural for vampires so when they are forced to there are often slight reminders that they shouldn't sleep. Normally, from what I've gathered, splitting headaches, dizziness, nausea and often a very bad temper." Sherlock rapidly explained to Mycroft.

Mycroft frowned in bewilderment, "I thought you slept with him."

The politician put emphasis on the word slept which made the detective, for some reason, extremely uncomfortable.

Sherlock turned a deep red colour. Why do I need to have this conversation with you?

"I slept with him. He couldn't sleep but he stayed by me until you came." The detective couldn't get the words out of his mouth fast enough. The sociopath's cheeks turned even redder.

Understanding crossed the politician's features accompanied by embarrassment. Clearly he didn't want this conversation either.

Mycroft coughed awkwardly, "Um, so what do we do now?"

"I was told 10 minutes then he will be better but it wasn't a reliable source."

Mycroft hummed in understanding. He was wondering what would happen to Alexander.

Sherlock led the way through to the living room and collapsed into his armchair. Mycroft, always the image of good grace, lowered himself gently into the doctor's chair. Mycroft eyed the delicious looking Victoria sponge that still sat untouched on the coffee table. The brothers sat in silence, both listening for any sound to radiate from Sherlock's room.

Both men were straining to hear when a loud noise made them jump. A pained moaned echoed around the flat. The brothers turned to stare at the bedroom door. Another groan emitted from the room. The groan turned frustrated as the groaning itself was obviously not helping the suffering that the vampire was experiencing.  
-

John cracked open his eyes but squeezed them shut again, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

It felt like the sunlight was burning into his pupils. It felt like his frontal lobe was in the process of being torn to shreds. His whole body felt weak and tingly. He groaned in pain and the sound rattled around his head.

_I am going to KILL whoever did this to me... ALEXANDER. You will pay. You BASTARD!_

He could feel every cut and laceration the other vampire had inflicted upon his body. Each wound stung and caused him to wince. He pulled his weak arms up to his head and his fingers gripped around his head in a vice-like hold. He felt weak and powerless. _This must be what it is like to be a human. So weak and pathetic._

He attempted to open his eyes again slightly. The light made his eyes water and sting. The doctor tried to push himself up so he was in a sitting position but a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness made him fall back onto the sheets.

The room was spinning and his stomach was twisting and doing backflips. He heaved.

_No! Not here!_

He pulled himself up and stumbled as fast as he could to the closest toilet. He heaved into the toilet and, unfortunately for whoever had to clean the toilet (it would probably be him anyway), the contents of his stomach made a reappearance.

The contents just happened to be a few litres of blood. As soon as it was injected into his system the blood would head straight for his stomach where he could make energy out of it. The world got a bit fuzzier as the blood splattered into the toilet.

He sat there for a minute before realising if he didn't feed he would collapse onto the bathroom floor. He hauled himself onto his unsteady feet and swayed a bit before attempting to march onwards.

The vampire stumbled back to Sherlock's bed. His head was pounding. His eyes were burning. His stomach was heaving up nothing. His vision was viciously blurry.

 _Ahh! Why do I have to wake up? Why couldn't I just die? I've lived long enough_. John's own thoughts were causing him great pain as they increased the pounding behind his eyes. _Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! ...Positive. Think positive. At least I don't currently have a temper._

John was trying really hard to see any positive in this experience. Not being in a bad mood is good. John battled to keep his eyelids open but his eyes were stinging so bad. He fought against the pain and the splitting headache it was causing. He was holding his eyes open when his line of sight fell upon the bedside lamp.

 _That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen. I hate you. Do you realise that? You Mr Lamp with your fancy bulb and shade_ , John thought sarcastically, _I hate you. You ruined my life_.

John swung his arm out and hit the 'stupid' lamp across the room so it smashed against the far wall. John narrowed his eyes at the offending lamp before turning and looking at the lamp on the other bedside table.

 _I bet you're his accomplice. Your next,_ John's thoughts had turned menacingly nasty. _One minute... I'm attempting to have a telepathic conversation with a LAMP. I'm delusional… Oh well, I started so might as well finish._

John leant across the bed and hit the other lamp across the room. Just like the other lamp it smashed as it made forceful contact with the wall.

He felt a little bit better. He needed to release some anger. _Great! My temper has arrived!_

The vampire tried to stand but he swayed so had to hold on to the headboard.

After more groaning and moaning he eventually got himself to his feet. _Where is that flipping detective when he is needed?_ He stumbled to the door and tried the handle. He couldn't pull it all the way down in his muddled state. He tried again and soon frustration was boiling within him.

He wrapped his hands tightly around the door handle and gave a sharp and precise tug a loud cracking sound echoed throughout the flat. The vampire then simply pulled the whole door out of the frame and gently rested the broken door against the wall.

He stumbled into the living area to see a detective and a politician staring at him in shock. He stumbled across the room to his armchair which was currently being occupied by Mycroft.

John didn't realise how intimidating he looked with his fangs descended and pupils blown wide.

"You are in my chair." The doctor practically hissed at the man. His voice was deep and threatening. Without realising it he was snarling at the politician.

Mycroft scrambled to his feet, trying to get out of the vampire's way as quickly as possible. It was obvious to everyone in the room that a grumpy vampire is a more-likely-to-hurt-you vampire.

_Mmmmmhhhhhh. They smell so good. So fresh and warm. I could just have a little. Just to boost my energy... No! They are not providers!_

John flopped down into his chair and closed his eyes. The vampire rubbed his temples in an effort to cease the pounding. Sherlock could tell from John's laboured breath that the short walk had taken along of his energy. _This isn't what happened last time._

The pounding was still assaulting John's brain. The doctor rolled his neck, removing any kinks and knots.

"Ahhh!" The doctor groaned as he opened his eyes and instantly got frustrated as the world around him was fuzzy.

He looked down at an empty mug that sat on the coffee table. _This is childish… I don't care how childish this is. I don't like that mug._

John's hand swung out so quickly Sherlock could barely follow the vampire's actions. The vampire caught the mug in his fingers and launched the china cup across the room. It shattered into hundreds of pieces on impact.

Sherlock would have sworn the wall was dented from the supernatural force behind the throw. John looked over at the two Holmes brothers before realising that Mycroft didn't know he was a vampire.

Sherlock noticed his sudden change in body language and deduced the vampire's thoughts, "No need to worry. He knows."

John turned his glare from the politician to the detective. He opened his mouth to speak but instead something else distracted his senses. He straightened up in the chair with his mouth open sniffing the air.

Sherlock saw the all logical thought leave John as the vampire ran his tongue over his fangs. _Something smells delicious_ , John's mind murmured to himself.

He turned his head to follow the sent. His eyes then made contact with a dark bottle which sat next to a cake and card. John recognised@ the logo on the card immediately and a smile grew across his face.

John got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled over to the bottle. The grin broadened as he read the blurry words written on the bottom and collapsed back into his seat.

The vampire ripped off the lid and raised the dark glass bottle to his lips he froze when it was millimetres away.

"This might not be pleasant for you."

The doctor proceeded to draw the bottle to his lips and gulp down the metallic liquid. The smell of iron filled the room making Mycroft feel sick.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as the doctor drank the whole bottle without stopping to breathe.

The vampire put the glass bottle gently down on the floor before turning to the detective. Sherlock's eyes widen minutely as a small dribbled of blood trailed down John's chin. The doctor quickly licked it up savouring the taste of blood on his tongue.

The vampire could see Mycroft going pale and he looked slightly faint. John held in the chuckle that threatened to escape his lips. It was sometimes nice just to freak people out every once in a while.

The doctor could feel the new blood coursing through his system, even though it was only a small amount. It was enough to get him going again.

_Feed. I need to feed. Time to find a provider before this energy boost goes._

The vampire didn't spare a word to the Holmes brothers as he hurried out of the door. There was no time to waste.

Sherlock and Mycroft were left staring at the space where John had previously been. Sherlock's eyes travelled down to the empty bottle before turning to his brother, "Believe me, now?"

The politician looked at his brother with his mouth open wide, "Lestrade has got to see this."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reveals his vampireness to Lestrade.

Before John had even reached the corner of the street, Mycroft was dialling in an increasingly familiar number.

"Greg! Yes, are you busy? Good. You need to come to Baker Street... Trust me. You have to see it to believe it, I'm afraid." Mycroft continued having the conversation even though Sherlock was glaring at the politician.

 _I will not let John become a tourist attraction_ , Sherlock fumed silently to himself while Mycroft carried on conversing with the policeman.

"Yes? Okay, see you soon." Mycroft wrapped up the conversation and turned to his fuming brother.

"Lestrade is on his way. You said that I could have a demonstration once the good doctor has recovered and I believe that it is only fair to include Greg."

"Okay. Lestrade is on his way but who on Earth is Greg?" Mycroft knew that Sherlock knew who Greg was but was using his lack of social skills to annoy the politician.

The elder Holmes decided to attack the problem with saintly patience knowing that his impatient brother would find his good mannered grace frustrating, "Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade from Scotland Yard. You and John often assist him on cases."

Sherlock frowned slightly at his brother's tactical play. He wouldn't allow his arrogant brother to win this one. He stared at Mycroft in an attempt to make the stern man lose composure but the politician had experienced the detective's glare many times before and had built up an immaculate defence. He was immune to the glare that was being directed at him.

Sherlock was growing tired of this silly game and decided to whip his brother with his finely chosen words. He opened his mouth to speak when they heard a knock on the front door. Sherlock begrudgingly closed his mouth to listen as Mrs Hudson shuffled out to open the door. He heard Lestrade step into the building chatting casually with their landlady.

The Holmes brothers listened intently as they heard Mrs Hudson leading the DI up to the flat door despite his protests.

Sherlock glared at the policeman as he walked through the door and stood awkwardly in the living room before shuffling uncomfortably across the space over to Mycroft. The Detective Inspector ducked his head and kissed the politician gently on the lips. A rare smile spread on Mycroft's face as he flushed pink.

Horror sprang across the detective's features and his mouth twisted into a disgusted scowl. He kept the expression firmly in place. The policeman and politician had a quick mumbled conversation before seeing Sherlock's face and flushing a deep red.

Sherlock still kept the expression and stared at his brother and, what seemed to be, his brother's lover. Lestrade shook himself slightly out of the embarrassment and sat on the sofa next to the overweight Holmes. He turned to his partner,

"Why do you need me here?"

Mycroft didn't answer for a second. He was still trying to ignore Sherlock's glare, "John is a vampire. It is confirmed. He has..." Mycroft gestured in the general direction of his teeth, "fangs and drinks ... blood."

Sherlock scoffed from the other side of the room, "I did tell you."

Mycroft gave his brother a disapproving look, "Yes, Sherlock. Indeed you did but you cannot blame us for being doubtful."

Sherlock crossed his arms and continued to glare at the two men. _Why didn't they believe it? Why is it so impossible for Dr John Hamish Watson to be a vampire?_

The silence dragged on. None of the men wanting to break the silence. The two Holmes brothers were staring intently at each other while Lestrade sat awkwardly by Mycroft's side.

Eventually the silence became too much for the DI, "Where is John then?"

Sherlock turned to the policeman and stared at the man. He let the silence drag on long enough for it to become awkward again before replying.

"He is baking some blood flavoured cookies for us to try." The sarcasm rolled naturally off the detective's tongue.

"What?" Lestrade sounded as repulsed as Sherlock's expression towards the men had been.

Mycroft sighed at his brother's immaturity, "No, Greg. He has gone out. He didn't say why. He left in slight a rush but I think we can easily hazard a guess. I thought you would like to be here when John shows us he is a vampire."

"Yes, thanks. It would be nice to see it for myself." Lestrade said it as casually as if he was talking about the weather.

"How long?" Sherlock's demand interrupted the lover's conversation.

Both men looked over at the genius in bewilderment. Mycroft raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"How long what, baby brother?" The added endearment obviously forced.

"How long? Has ... this been going on?" Sherlock nodded in the policeman's direction.

Mycroft curled his hand around Lestrade's. A small smile broke through his hard exterior, making his face light up, "Getting slow, Sherlock? Almost 2 months now. We were expecting you to deduce it." The politician announced with pride.

Lestrade faced the detective as well, "We thought you only slept with John to prove you can always do what Mycroft does… You know, sibling rivalry."

The two men were slightly embarrassed at how they had leapt to a conclusion. Sherlock was turning slightly red as well as a result of his lack deductions on the partnership.

"Well I've been busy... with John being a vampire and everything..." Sherlock let his excuse trail off.

The men sat in silence for the next 5 minutes until they heard the door down stairs open. The men listened to the sound of tired footsteps on the stairs.

 _John's not going to be in a good mood_ , Sherlock's mind warned, _the fresh blood probably hasn't made its way into his system yet._

The detective watched as his supernatural lover entered the room. The vampire smelt the air once before turning to directly face the policeman. He knew the smell of every person who had ever walked through those doors. _Blood smells delicious and extremely familiar, healthy, male, 45+...Obviously Lestrade._

The vampire put on a forced smile. The detective was disappointed when he saw that John's fangs had already retracted leaving the man with perfectly normal human teeth. John was clearly fed up. _This probably isn't the time to get him to show his vampire-ness. I really need to look up the correct term for that_ , Sherlock's mind mused.

"John," Mycroft started as he rose from his position on the sofa. John turned to the man addressing him "Is it at all possible that you could show your fangs to Greg?"

Sherlock smirked as the doctor raised an unimpressed eyebrow. The forced smile twisted into a furious scowl.

"Excuse me, Mycroft? Say that again?" Mycroft didn't catch the warning tone in John's voice.

"Could you show your fangs to Greg?" Mycroft asked politely, complete oblivious to the vampire's rising frustration.

The vampire's action was too fast for any of the men to follow. One moment Mycroft was stood with both feet planted safely on the floor then next he was being held 2 feet above his previous spot on the floor. Sherlock's eyebrows rose in shock when he noticed that John was holding his overweight brother up easily with just one hand. The vampire's fingers were wrapped tightly around the politician's suit jacket.

Mycroft swallowed as he saw the vampire's fangs descending and his pupils suddenly blow wider until the majority of his eyes were red. A deep growl was curling up from the doctor's throat. Suddenly, there was silence as John stopped the noise in preparation for speaking.

"Now look what you have done, Mycroft." The voice was dark and threatening. Sherlock was enjoying the look of terror which was plastering his brother's face. Lestrade sat motionless on the sofa, frozen to the spot in shock.

John held Mycroft in the air for a few more seconds before shaking his head and rapidly letting go of the man. The vampire stumbled back. _What have I done?_ His eyes darted to every man in the room. Taking in the looks of terror, shock and Sherlock's smirk.

The vampire collapsed into his chair and let his head fall into his hands.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry." John mumbled, disgusted at himself.

"Not your fault, John." Mycroft said as he straightened his tie and pulled his jacket down, removing the new creases.

Sherlock leapt up from his seat.

"Why didn't you just kill him while you had the chance?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky for you guys, this story is nearing its end. You won't have to deal with endless updates for much longer.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will everything return to normal?

John's head shot up and he turned his most murderous glare onto the detective.

"No, Sherlock," The vampire's voice was still deep but most of the threat had receded. He just sounded worn out. "I'm enough of a monster as it is. I'm not going to make it worse by killing someone for no good reason."

Both the observant Holmes' in the room noticed as the doctor's fingers began to twitch. The blood was flowing into his system. John could feel the energy bursting like fireworks in his veins creating burst after burst of fire in his system.

The buzz was getting increasingly more intense. The doctor leapt up, making the other men jump. He dashed towards the kitchen. _I need to make it up to Mycroft. Yes. Good idea. Tea. Tea cheers everybody up._

The vampire gathered together the tea tray noisily at a break-neck speed. He was back in the living room before the others had started talking again. He poured out three cups of tea and pushed them towards the Politician, the policeman and the detective. Greg's brow furrowed in confusion. John didn't understand what the man was confused about. What had he done now?

"Are you not having any, John?" Lestrade asked curiously.

The vampire shook his head firmly before answering, "I honestly wouldn't mind never touching human food ever again."

The DI looked even more confused before understanding flashed across his face. "Oh! ...What will happen to that Alexander character then?"

John picked up the card which had been left by the cake and bottle of blood. He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth after he had read the small piece of text, "When James Stephenson says that someone will be dealt with, he isn't joking. Doing what Alexander did to me isn't taken lightly in the vampire world. I doubt he will be a concern of ours for much longer... That's if he's not already been dealt with."

Lestrade winced slightly at the thought of an execution. The detective and Mycroft, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

Sherlock stared directly at his lover, "Why did he want you?"

"Alexander and I were once bound in the vampire society. Which means that if anything happens to me he has to help and vice versa. Obviously, after knowing each other for a while we eventually became partners but he has a nasty thirst for power. It was hard to live with him so I left." John flushed as he told the men about his past lover.

"How long?" Sherlock felt threatened by their obvious strong bond.

John frowned for a minute thinking.

"20 ... Maybe 25 years. No long really considering I'm pretty old compared to your fly-like life spans." John chuckled to himself.

"How old are you?" Mycroft questioned the vampire.

"What is the date?"

"5 October."

"Happy birthday me for six days ago! 207 and six day." John beamed proudly.

The other men's jaws fell open in shock. John started bouncing his leg. The energy was flying through his veins.

"Are you joking?" Mycroft couldn't believe his ears.

"No, I'm John," The vampire kept his face neutral until a smile cracked open and he chuckled. "Yes, seriously. No thanks to you idiots! That blood you gave me was practically poison. How long had it been out of the body? Jesus Christ!"

Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged anxious glances. The politician decided he was most responsible the blood so offered an answer.

"Ummmm... A few weeks, at most. Probably anyway."

John's nose screwed up in distaste, "No wonder my body rejected it! That stuff is practically toxic. All the fats and cells sit around for too long."

The men sat in silence as John paced the room. His energy making him put a skip in every step. He hopped, danced and jumped in an effort to burn some annoying energy. 5 minutes later John was still pacing but the others were bored especially the detective.

"So ... What now?" The policeman asked curiously.

"I go back into hiding and you pretend I don't exist and none of this happened." John stood looking seriously down at the DI.

"But... you're still going to... get your blood from people?" Lestrade was uncertain of how to phrase the question.

"If I cannot find blood from other sources then, yes, I will have to resort to providers."

Sherlock suddenly leapt out of his chair and dashed to the middle of the room, "John! You could feed off me!" He thrust his wrist forward like some sort of offering.

Mycroft stood up to stop the idea becoming anything more than what it was, an idea but the doctor stared first. Mycroft held his breath in anticipation of what would be said.

"Thanks for the offer but your blood would taste vile!" The vampire started gagging at the thought of sour, disgusting blood of an ex-drug addict running down his throat.

Sherlock looked practically broken. He shuffled back to his armchair and threw himself into it. Mycroft shook his head at his brother's behaviour.

"Everything will be going back to normal now?" Mycroft's eyes darted between the vampire and the detective. He was obviously wondering about the status of their relationship.

John smiled down at Sherlock, "Not quite everything."

Sherlock stood and grasped John's cold hands in his own warm ones. A smile spread across his face so it mirrored John's expression. In that moment, they were the only people in the world. Sherlock leant down and John went up onto his toes until their lips met. They kissed until they had to stop and breathe. They smiled at each other. Finally finding the person they had been look for their whole lives.

John's smile suddenly changed into a mischievous grin. Sherlock was confused. _What have I missed?_

The vampire swooped down and pulled the detective off the ground. He held Sherlock effortlessly in a fireman's lift. Sherlock's weight was no challenge for the supernatural creature.

With Sherlock over his shoulder he turned and strode towards the detective's bedroom. On the way, he stopped remembering the other men in the room. He turned to them.

"Well, thanks for coming but I've got buckets of energy and I haven't seen Sherlock in almost a week. I'm going to burn that energy, quickly hopefully and at the same time see some Sherlock. See you."

John marched through Sherlock's door ignoring the shocked faces of Lestrade and Mycroft and not waiting for a reply.

The two men who were left bewildered in the living area quickly glanced at each other before sprinting down the stairs and out the door as quickly as they could. They didn't want to be there for the next bit.

As they walked on down the road Mycroft looked back over his shoulder at 221b Baker Street and a smile crept into his face. _At least you've got your vampire back, Baby Brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last real chapter but there will be an Epilgue!


	29. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later...

A few months later...

John lay on the sofa with the detective lying between his legs facing the ceiling. The vampire wrapped his legs tighter around Sherlock's torso while sighing in satisfaction. The two men had been lying in that position for 4 hours. Originally, Sherlock had been thinking about a recent case but he soon fell asleep. He had been trying to stay awake every night with John, despite the vampire's objections. The result had been a shattered Sherlock and an annoyed John.

Sherlock had started to snore lightly when John picked the taller man's hand of his chest. He moved the limb carefully, so not to wake the sleeping genius, and pulled the detective's wrist to his lips. The doctor kissed the inside of the wrist gently before running his tongue over the skin covered veins. He could almost taste the blood through the barrier of flesh. The slightly sour taste from drug use was still there but the taste of the red liquid still made him thirst for human blood.

The vampire swallowed his throat suddenly alarmingly parched. He could feel his fangs slowly descending. He ran his tongue over the protruding teeth before running his teeth over the veins in the wrist.

Suddenly, John could hear a heartbeat suddenly speed up. The warm blood was racing through the veins even faster now. John sighed. He'd gotten carried away again. John leant down and reached towards the floor where a tea cup of blood sat half consumed.

The vampire lifted the crimson liquid to his lips and took a hearty gulp from the cup relieving the dryness of his throat. Sherlock, Lestrade and Mycroft didn't mind the cups of blood in the living room or bags of blood in the fridge. Mrs Hudson on the other hand had been easily convinced that it was all for an experiment. She was constantly attempting to get rid of the vampire's supply.

"Morning, Sherlock." John's lisp echoed around the silent flat.

Sherlock stayed stock still. John would say he was still sleeping if he couldn't hear the detective's heart pounding loudly. John repeated his statement. Sherlock cracked one eye open to look up at his lover.

"I was sleeping happily, John. Well, I was asleep until someone started licking my wrists." John flushed at being caught. The army doctor coughed awkwardly.

"Umm. Yeah, sorry. I couldn't help myself." A smile broke across the genius' face as he listened to the vampire's adorable lisp.

The detective leant up so he could kiss his adorable John. The ebony haired man ran his tongue over John's fangs mirroring the doctor's previous action.

Sherlock suddenly pulled away while pulling a disgusted face and his nose wrinkled up.

"Ahagg. Ahhghhh." The detective made sounds while hanging his tongue out of his mouth like he was trying to keep it away from himself.

It took a few minutes before the genius had recovered enough to form a logical sentence.

"Ahhh! Blood. Yuck! All metallic tasting!" The man shook his head like he was attempting to remove the memory from his head.

The younger man turned so he was lying chest to chest with the vampire. John had his eyes closed and was still. He wasn't even breathing. Sherlock watched to see if he could catch the man's chest rising and falling but after almost 5 minutes he realised that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He laid a gentle kiss onto the vampire's cold lips and the response confirmed that the doctor wasn't actually asleep. The older man returned the kiss passionately, still with his eyes closed in a mock sleeping act.

Sherlock broke the kiss to instead gaze down at his supernatural lover. The vampire opened one eye curiously to see what the other man was doing. He opened his other eye to look fully into Sherlock's eyes.

"Could I try some?" Sherlock didn't break eye contact while asking.

John's brow furrowed, "Some what?"

""Don't play dumb, John. Blood, can I try it?"

John looked up sceptically at his lover. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You want to try some blood? Human blood? From a person?"

"That is what I asked." Sherlock replied sarcastically.

Without looking away John lifted the cup of blood off the ground. The vampire offered to reheat it, promising that would improve the taste but Sherlock turned the offer down.

Sherlock sat up and took the cup from the vampire. He smelled the liquid and his nose screwed up in distaste. John almost chuckled at the detective's determination. The genius took a large gulp of blood before hold the liquid in his mouth. The sudden metallic taste had stopped Sherlock being able to swallow. The detective sat in between John's legs trying to swallow the liquid.

The vampire leant forward and licked off a trail of blood which was trickling down Sherlock's lips and chin. This action encouraged the consulting detective to swallow the foul liquid.

The taller man was nearly sick after his mouth was empty. The blood left an iron taste in his mouth. John moved forward again and took Sherlock's lips in his own and kissed the man passionately.

"Mmmmmm. You taste delicious." John licked the blood away from along Sherlock's lips. "I could just eat you up."

Sherlock didn't think about how John could actually literally eat him, his blood anyway. He didn't think about the fact that John could seriously hurt him and it could just be an accident.

"By all means." The detective mumbled against John's lips.

John gently kissed Sherlock's neck, on top of his jugular. He could feel the detective's pulse racing in anticipation. He chuckled quietly. John pulled back and looked the genius in the eye.

"And when is the last time you ate?" Disapproval dripped from the vampire's tongue.

Sherlock pouted, "Just then. You saw me."

John sighed.

"No, Sherlock. You know full well that blood doesn't have the same effect on you. Look, I will make you a sandwich."

John extracted himself from Sherlock's tight grip with ease even though the detective was clinging to the vampire as tightly as he could manage. He made his way over to the kitchen and started searching the cupboard for anything edible. The doctor pulled out some bread and started buttering the slices. Out of habit, he pulled a small piece of bead off the slice and placed it on his tongue.

The sudden taste similar to sour milk flooded his mouth. His time not eating had made the taste of human food worse than he remembered. He ran over to the bin and emptied his mouth into the bag. He stayed where he was heaving for a few minutes after he had removed the bread.

The doctor took a deep breath before swallowing and turning around. The vampire jumped when he noticed Sherlock perched on top of the table studying him intently. He had been too distracted nearly being sick to listen out for heartbeats.

John raised a questioning eyebrow. He regretted it almost instantly after.

"Do you react the same to animal blood? Can Vampires get drunk? Do vampires get scared? How do vampires react to chemicals? Can Vampires see more colours? Can Vampires smell different drugs in a person's blood stream just by smelling people? Can you climb up walls? Can you control wolves and bats? Is there certain blood types that appeal more to you?"

"Sherlock! Please, leave me alone!"

"Aww. Pleeaassseeee, John. Just this once? For me?" Sherlock knew that John despised his whiney voice.

"Fine! Fine! Fine! If I answer those questions will you stop being an annoying dick?"

Sherlock nodded in confirmation.

"Okay then. No, only human. No, we process alcohol differently to you although I wouldn't mind trying being drunk. Yes, of course we can get scared but not often because of the fact we are hard to hurt so we are not scared of much. Chemicals don't tend to harm us. We have differences in skin so I can't get burnt or anything like that. No, we cannot see any more colours but we get better vision when our pupils are dilated. Yes, each drug smells different in the blood stream. I can also tell how long ago it was taken and how they took the drug. Don't be ridiculous, of course we can't climb walls. Yes, I can ride wolves and turn into a bat." Sherlock's mouth fell open. "Only joking! No I have no control over either creature. And finally, no. Some vampires have favourite blood types but to be honest I don't have a preference. I like men's blood more than women's though. Does that answer all your questions?"

Sherlock beamed with happiness. He nodded satisfied. John sighed in relief.

The ex-soldier finished the sandwich, always keeping the food as far from him as he could.

The two men went back into the living room and John lay on the sofa again. The consulting detective lay on top of him knowing his weight wouldn't affect the vampire.

John closed his eyes and lay in complete silence, not even breathing. Sherlock gazed down at him as he munched on his sandwich. The vampire had definitely mastered the art of fake sleeping although John did realise people breathed when they slept … didn't he? The genius watched John for about 20 minutes before he heard something down stairs. He whipped his head around to face the front door of the flat.

He listened as whoever was making the noise knocked on the front door again. Mrs Hudson shuffled out of her flat towards the door whilst calling for the person to stop banging on the door.

Who could it be. Time? 6pm-ish so they probably came straight from work. Molly? No. She has a much more delicate knock. Mycroft? No. He just turns up without knocking... Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted by John.

"It's Lestrade." The vampire didn't even bother opening his eyes. He still stayed motionless

Sherlock looked down at his partner with a smile. He was still getting used to John's supernatural hearing.

Less than 30 seconds later, as John predicted, Lestrade rushed into the room. Sherlock turned to face the policeman but didn't move off his vampire. John on the other hand didn't move at all, not even to open an eye.

"John!" Lestrade was out of breath. He has obviously come here in a rush.

John didn't move. He stayed exactly where he was, not even breathing. Sherlock was becoming concerned, how can he hold his breath for that long? Sherlock answered for the motionless doctor.

"He can hear you. Just say whatever your here to say." Sherlock instructed the older man.

"Um... Okay. So John, basically, um. Have you been feeding off humans recently?" Lestrade didn't think he would ever have to have a conversation like this.

All eyes turned onto John. He didn't answer. Sherlock felt that he could answer the question to a satisfactory level.

"John has been drinking blood from storage and blood banks. He hasn't physically drunk from a human in a few months."

Lestrade looked extremely confused, "Oh, well then we may have a problem. We found a person dead with signs of a vampire attack"

John suddenly sprang into a sitting position sending Sherlock flying to the other end of the sofa. Concern was etched onto his face. Greg jumped at the sudden movement.

"What? ... No, this isn't good. Not at all." The vampire leapt up and began to pace.

"Why?" Both humans asked at the same time.

"What's that smell? Can't you smell it?" John had stopped pacing to instead start smelling the air. He turned to face Greg with a dark look in his eyes, "Did you touch the victim?"

"With gloves, yes."

John lifted up the policeman's arm and began to smell the man's hand. His face screwed up in anger, "No, it can't be."

He let go of the man's arm to being pacing again but this time much faster. Sherlock and Greg looked at each other for an answer.

Sherlock needed data, "Can't be what, John?"

The vampire threw himself into his armchair and folded his hands into a steeple position which is more commonly seen on the detective. He stared directly at Sherlock.

"We are going to be having a visitor for Christmas."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Who is it?"

"Mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left this open just in case people were interested in a sequel! Let me know what you thought! X
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and supporting this!


	30. Author's Note

The official sequel, Vampire's Secrets, is now being updated! Please check it out as it follows directly on from where this left off! X

**Author's Note:**

> Come and find me on Tumblr for fandom blogging- www.fandom-obsessive.tumblr.com
> 
> If you want to discuss anything about Fanfiction or A Vampire in Hiding you can contact me on my Fanfiction email-  
> pure_fury@yahoo.com


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